HP: Spirit Talker

POV Yusheng Lan

The girls looked at the woman entering the hall with palpable interest. A long skirt with a beautiful chain and various jewelry instead of a belt, a thin black blouse that clung to her slender figure, a gold pendant on a chain, gold earrings with rectangles of amber glittering in her ears. She sat down at a large oval table across from the girls who were watching her — black and bright green. A young maid came over to her and set down a cup of tea, covered with a special lid. The fine porcelain burned her hands with the boiling water, but the woman took the cup very calmly, as if the temperature didn't bother her at all. She took a sip and shifted her lazy gaze to the girls. They were silent — they knew that the Mentor could stall for a long time just out of spite. She would give them an extraordinary training session. That's why they remained silent, even though both Zenzen and Ju could barely hold back a flood of questions. The woman smiled and felt sorry for them.

— There had been a hunt. Local werewolves, a pack, a strong leader. — The woman frowned, as if she had smelled something unpleasant. — The boy was with the guards. — And she was silent again, sipping her tea.

— How many guards were there? — Zen.

— How many died? — Ju.

— There were three men with him, not strong, just wizards. But they were smart. They had weapons with them.

— How many werewolves were there?

— Hmmm... the boy did a good job of covering their tracks, but he's not very experienced... .... Yeah... — the woman looked up and away in thought.

— Come on, Mom! — Zanzen couldn't help it.

— What, "mom"? Learn to be patient, you're the future wife of Returned Fire Petal Lan! You can't behave like this!

The girl jumped out from behind the table and bowed deeply to her mother.

— Don't forget who you are, — the woman took a last sip and set the cup aside. — The boy had gotten a good blade. — Yusheng looked earnestly at the nurturing daughter and niece. — A true spiritual weapon. It's a pity the type of blade isn't clear — the boy wiped off the marks, but there was very little blood.

— But we all felt it, didn't we? — Zenzen did not hold back again, drawing a displeased look from her mother, and the girl's question was ignored.

— Ju, can I count on you? — Yusheng looked at her niece with that stern look that servants and slaves so dread.

— Yes, Madam! — The girl left the table and bowed respectfully. — I will return him to the family!

— Madam! — Zenzen bowed her head. — Please!

Yusheng Lan stared at her daughter for several minutes. The girl was covered in a sticky sweat of fear from this ordeal, but she would not back down — this was not what she and her sister had been taught all their lives.

— My daughter, — she shuddered at this address, for she had not heard these words in a long time. — You, no, both of you, know the responsibility for the Lan family that has fallen into your hands. You are both our chance, our branch's chance at the throne. Our time is running out, and if we don't live up to expectations...

— We will not fail! — the girls shouted in unison.

Yusheng hoped and believed that they would succeed. After all, she was the one who taught the girls. But she couldn't help but feel the calmness with which the boy took the lives of the werewolves. The first and only time she'd met him, she'd felt his fear. In America, she had felt his fear and doubt. During the massacre here in England, he had spilled much blood, punished many. His anger had soaked the very earth. Here she found only peace. What does this mean? Is it possible that the boy's mind is not stable? Why does he dance around the world? What's with the mood swings during the battle? Should we warn the girls to be careful, what if he's going crazy?

Yusheng Lan is too used to measuring everything herself. She's not a spy — she's a fighter, an assassin, a purifier. She didn't even think about it, it didn't even occur to her that the Blade Master hadn't taught his ward how to enter a trance of detachment. When it makes no difference who dies at your hands — old man, woman, child — all are equal before death. When the blood passes by and the mind remains calm and unshaken.

Yusheng never took seriously the Japanese meditation techniques, which are basically the same as the Chinese meditation techniques, but were developed in different cultures and philosophies, resulting in differences. Is it possible to torture the mind with trials and shed blood over and over again if you can get away with it? And why would you do that, what would it accomplish?

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