As the days wore on, Sen found himself encountering more villages and towns. At first, he simply trudged through them, almost heedless of the fact that there were living, breathing human beings in them. Most of the people he encountered on the street simply stared at him. A few times, he felt cultivators start to approach him. They all stopped short and let him pass after taking one look at his eyes. They clearly saw something in them that made them very nervous. Bit by bit, though, the presence of living people started to cut through the haze of sorrow inside of him. It was painful at times. He saw children running around under the watchful gazes of elders. At first, that simply made him remember the old man and the funeral pyre or brought on a cascade of memories of standing over funeral pyres.

Bit by bit, though, the sight of people who were healthy and alive started to restore his equilibrium. He didn’t feel as he had before the village. Somehow, that well of sadness had drowned the instinct to lash out at anyone and everyone who looked like they might even try to impose on him in some way. However, the thought that he should listen to anyone who approached him started to fade. That had been an overreaction, his mind fleeing in the completely opposite direction of what he had been doing. There truly were people out there looking to exploit him. He needed to be mindful of that reality and remain utterly immovable in his rejection of those attempts. He had a reputation. Regardless of how he felt about that reputation, he couldn’t keep running from its existence. That reputation alone was something that the powerful would look to weaponize to their own ends. No, neither blanket hostility nor complete openness was appropriate. He needed to follow a middle path of wary caution.

As these realizations seeped into his waking thoughts and stabilized his emotions, he became more conscious of the places he was passing through. As terrible as things had been in the plague village, life carried on. His experiences there had changed him. That sadness would always live inside him, but it wasn’t all that lived inside him. As that shell of misery started to crack, Sen tried to remember the last time he had slept or eaten. He knew he had slept a few times since the village, but not when. He tried to remember how long he had walked in that haze or simply how far he had come. His mind conjured no answers for him. It might have been days. It might have been weeks. Sen didn’t know how long he could go without food or sleep anymore, having not tested it since well before he’d found Fu Ruolan. Still, he suspected that could use a night of sleep, hot food, and a bath.

In the next town he passed through, he found an inn. The thought of interacting with anyone still made him feel tired, but it was inevitable. There was no use in putting it off any longer. He opened the door and stepped inside. A middle-aged man with a wispy beard and an enormous stomach bustled over to him. The inn’s owner frowned at Sen like he was contemplating telling the young man to leave.

“There are cheaper…” started the innkeeper.

A small shower of silver tael clattered to the floor, summoned from one of Sen’s storage rings. The innkeeper’s eyes went wide with shock and greed. He dropped to the floor and started gathering up the money like a squirrel desperately gathering nuts for the long winter.

“My key?” asked Sen.

The words seemed to hit the innkeeper like a blow. He looked up at Sen and seemed to regain his composure, a faint blush of shame turning the man’s cheeks pink.

“Of course, honored guest,” said the man.

He hastily scooped up the coins and hurried away before returning with a key to a room. The innkeeper led Sen to what he thought was probably the best room in the place. The man talked ceaselessly. Sen couldn’t tell if the man was filling the air out of embarrassment over his behavior or simply to try to ingratiate himself with a well-heeled traveler. Maybe it was both. Sen shrugged the thought away and made a noise now and then to indicate that he was pretending to listen. When the innkeeper began extolling the virtues of the windows, it snapped Sen out of his stupor. He really looked at the man and saw beads of sweat on the man’s forehead. He hadn’t been talking out of nervousness but fear.

“Yes,” said Sen, bringing the rivers of works to an immediate stop. “The windows seem fine indeed. Do you offer meals? Baths?”This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Some of the panicked look in the man’s eyes faded as Sen asked about familiar topics.

“Yes. We offer food in the common room,” said the innkeeper before the panicked look redoubled in his eyes. “Or we can bring the food to your room.”

Sen suppressed a weary sigh. “Food in the common room will be fine. Do you offer baths?”

“We do, honored cultivator,” said the man.

Sen wondered what had given it away before reason asserted itself. What didn’t I do to give it away? He used a storage treasure right in front of the man. He’d thrown what probably looked like a small fortune to the innkeeper onto the floor like it was nothing. He couldn’t have shouted that he was a cultivator any louder short of simply announcing that he was a cultivator for all to hear.

“Please have a bath prepared for me,” said Sen.

“Of course, honored cultivator,” said the man before a frightened look crossed his face. “Will you require any assistance?”

It took Sen a moment to process the meaning of that last question. Assistance? He realized that the innkeeper probably had a daughter somewhere in the inn. No doubt pretty enough that some men had tried to press a claim on her. But no mortal in their right mind would deny a cultivator who threw around silver like it was dirt. Sen looked at the man for a moment.

“No. I won’t require any assistance.”

The innkeeper indicated his understanding with a jerky nod, but Sen could see the relief in the man’s eyes.

“Of course, honored cultivator. I’ll have the bath prepared immediately.”

“Thank you.”

The innkeeper made an absurdly deep bow before he left the room as fast as his legs could carry him. Sen sat on the bed and did his best to put his mind back into the place it needed to be if he meant to keep moving through civilization. He started a little when a light knock came at the door. Shaking his head at his own inattention, he went over and opened the door. The innkeeper was waiting there, looking more composed than had earlier. The rotund man led Sen to the bath and, after asking if Sen needed anything else, retreated. Sen lounged in the hot water. He could only feel a few people in the inn, so he let himself soak for longer than he would if the place was full, confident that he wasn’t preventing other people from taking a bath. Getting clean and putting on fresh robes did a lot to help Sen feel more like a person. He made his way down to the common area to see if there was any food to be had. He was happy to find that there was someone ready to cook. A young woman who looked nervous and jittery came over to ask if he had any requests. Sen just told her to bring him whatever she liked best. She gave him a startled look, then hurried away to what Sen assumed was a kitchen.

Sen found a spark of amusement as tray after tray of food was brought out to him. He only recognized about half of it, but it all smelled good. He sampled things from each tray, finally settling on a dish of chicken and vegetables that had a spicy sauce on it. Once he started eating, though, he found it difficult to stop. He emptied plate after plate of food, occasionally stopping to sip from a cup of water or pop a dumpling into his mouth. Once he’d finished the last of the food, the young woman came over with an awestruck look on her face.

“Does the young master require more food?” she asked in a halting voice.

“No. Thank you. That was more than sufficient.”

The woman nodded vaguely, her eyes on the piles of empty plates that surrounded Sen. He was just going to let her take the plates when a thought came to him.

“Perhaps you can help me,” said Sen thoughtfully.

The young woman turned her full attention on him, possibly for the first time, and she went a little glassy-eyed. Sen sighed. He’d forgotten about that. He pressed forward anyway.

“Do you know how far the coast is from here?” he asked.

She blinked at him several times before seeming to come to herself.

“The coast? I’ve never been there, but they say it’s a week’s travel from here.”

Sen gave her a small smile and nodded. “Thank you.”

He retreated to his room after that. He wondered if he should bother locking the door. He doubted anyone in the entire town could hurt him even if they tried, not that he expected they would try. Aside from that awkward initial conversation with the innkeeper, Sen was fairly certain he’d been a polite guest in the town. Smirking to himself, Sen locked the door anyway. While no one might try to injure him, there was always the possibility of someone coming to his room for other reasons. Better to avoid any unnecessary complications. Once he settled onto the bed, though, Sen had no distractions left. The sorrow came back to trouble him. It didn’t seize him in an iron grip the way it had, but it drained away the majority of the good feelings he’d managed to accumulate over the course of the day. I guess this is how it’s going to be for a while, he thought. It wasn’t ideal, but it was livable.

He tried to imagine what he must have looked like on the road or passing through towns. Had he looked like a specter? Had he blanketed the area with his pain and sadness? He couldn’t recall having been forced to fight anyone or anything, although that was hard to trust. He’d been so far inside his own grief that much of the journey to reach the inn was simply lost in a fog. He hoped that he hadn’t done anything terrible to anyone. In the state of mind he’d been in, he’d have likely killed anyone that provoked him in any way.