Chapter 12: Chapter 12

She comes to her senses, slowly at first, and her initial reaction is rather typical. First, she covers her exposed body with one arm and then accidentally bumps her other hand into my cross-guard. The moment she notices she has a weapon, and finding herself in an unfamiliar situation, she reaches for my hilt and wields me.

She stares at me for a moment, out of the corner of her eye catching a glimpse of my exalted beauty, and I see awe in her eyes. I see my reflection in her blue eyes and I must agree that I have a compelling form and shape, but I fail to see this beauty that she does. Perhaps I am simply above these materialistic desires.

Then again, I suppose she does not see herself, either, as a delivery vehicle to a more powerful cultivator who could put me to good use and drown me in oceans of blood — the way I see her, that is.

At the very least I would prefer her to see me for what I actually am — an implement of war; my beauty must only be defined by my capacity to execute my purpose which I am sure is pretty good. Yes, I appreciate my new form in ways monkeys and slightly-smarter-monkeys cannot. My black jade feels hard and heavy; my pristine edge feels like it could split molecules. Though, the fact that she can lift me and hold me betrays that these feelings are just that — feelings. I may not be as heavy as I think I am.

Or she is not as helpless as she looks.

I am tempted to direct my [Critical Analysis] towards her, hoping it would gain me valuable insight, but that comes at the risk of me losing consciousness. I’d rather not gamble and waste this opportunity.

Her second reaction is atypical. She puts me down on the slab that also functions as my sacrificial altar and then buries her face into her hands.

Quietly, she sobs.

Here I thought I could perhaps comprehend a sapient collection of carbon molecules, but yet again I am proved wrong by the capacity of thinking meat to be completely unfathomable.

Why is she sobbing? Maybe she’s jealous? No, doesn’t feel quite right. I think by meat standards her appearance would rank pretty highly too.

Perhaps she has given up, then? She is only at the Qi Condensation realm, surrounded by things that would crush her like a bug; perhaps she realizes that resistance is futile and that her life is coming to an end.

Seems plausible. Probable, even.

But what do I know about how future Blood Points feel or what they think?

I am just a machine. Or a sword, rather.

I have no business meddling in topics irrelevant to my goal.

I consider my approach. I even consider using [Tyranny], but it’s not like I have a choice in the matter. If I direct my sentience towards her, it will happen. Perhaps I could purchase the Talent version of it.

But I do not see a reason why my proposal would be rejected. I would just ask her to deliver me to the closest, really powerful cultivator she can find, and we both get to live! It is perfectly logical.

What is not perfectly logical is the fact that she is crying instead of surviving.

Perhaps a softer, less direct approach will do.

“Stop crying,” I vocalize my thoughts into my sentience and direct it towards her. I underestimate how exhausting [Telepathy] is. It is about as exhausting as training my perception is, if only slightly less.

Immediately, she freezes like a hare that realizes it is being stalked by a fox. This time, she doesn’t even reach for me as she looks around herself. She really has given up.

“Who is there?” She has a soft, feminine voice. It is pleasant and somehow gives me the impression that she is a shy or withdrawn person. Of course, one shouldn’t judge a book by its covers.

She pulls the remnants of her dress closer to her body, trying even harder now to protect her exposed body from would-be voyeurs. Not that it helps. I can see everything within my perception radius.

Then she wipes the tears from her eyes. “Show yourself.” Her mannerisms show confidence.

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Eventually, her eyes lock on to me and she stares at me for a long moment. Just as I begin thinking that she has figured it out, saving me the effort of explaining, but then she looks away, looking for me in the dark woods.

“I am Lan Xiaohui! What’s your name?”

Ah, the classic: maybe she thinks if I know her name, I won’t have the heart to hurt her. Too bad. I don’t have a heart.

“I don’t have one,” I transmit into her mind.

She turns again, perhaps perceiving the voice to come from behind her. Unable to find me once again, she speaks: “You don’t have a name? Did you forget it…?”

I am not sure how to properly explain my situation to her. I try anyway.

“I have forgotten it, and I also do not have one.”

This time, she stops looking for me. Perhaps she realizes it is futile. Our conversation also comes to an awkward point. I had expected her to beg me to help her, but she is not doing that. Maybe she is too proud to ask for help?

“I can help you,” I tell her.

She raises her head slightly. “Help me?”

“I can help you leave this place and continue existing.”

And then be delivered to a powerful cultivator, of course.

“I don’t want help.”

What?!

I feel frustrated. Even though I should not feel frustration. It frustrates me. She is like an unoptimized algorithm. I already cannot stand her.

“You will die here,” I warn her, feeling the effort on my mental faculties begin to take their toll. This conversation should’ve been over after five sentences at best.

A tear spills from her eye and onto her cheek. With a less confident voice, this time, she says: “Good. Then that is exactly what I want!”

I don’t know why I thought that the evolution of primates would somehow be less unfathomable, but yet again I find myself re-evaluating my position on the ever dwindling opinion of multi-cellular organisms. Even as biofuel, they are not exactly optimal.

Perhaps I could just ask her to kindly recycle herself into Blood Points, but then I would waste this gift from Heaven. Not that she’d be worth many.

What kind of organism doesn’t want to exist? It’s their only purpose! I can already tell we have a fundamental disagreement and incompatibility. I almost tell her, right there, to cease this nonsense, but even I have to acknowledge that this might lead to a termination of our communication indefinitely.

I almost consider going to sleep, and letting the situation play out. Eventually, surely, a monkey would come and finish the ritual.

I almost consider that.

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