Stray Soul | Chapter 1: A Strange Child (Part 3)
For the past two years, Vazarl Nulu recited the Golden Moon Mantra regularly to absorb Immortal Energy. He abstained from forming his cultivation core with the last line of the Mantra to appease his mother. The day would come when he wholeheartedly pursues cultivation. In the present, filial piety is more important.
Acting the good son has benefits. Greatest of which is the trust of his parents. With this trust, he explored the Nulu Clan Compound unsupervised.
Vazarl Nulu, with a more developed mentality, did his best to learn about the world he resides in. From listening to the adults around him, he learned the general situation of his family. His father is a commoner, one step above servants and slaves, one step below merchants and scholars. Becoming a cultivator of the Nulu Clan would elevate Vazarl Nulu at least two rungs above the status he was born into.
Father is an artisan. He is part of the “commoner class” because he is not a man of learning and does not generate the income of a merchant. Vazarl Nulu has never been convinced of the social hierarchy—servants, commoners, merchants and scholars, magistrates and cultivators, aristocracy—the adults around him have spoken of.
The townsfolks—those who reside outside the compounds of the familial clans—are former servants and migrants. For them, cultivation is rarely an option. They focus on commerce and scholarly pursuits. Accounting, economics, engineering, finance, mathematics, philosophy, political science, et cetera are not formally taught. They are collectively scholarly pursuits. What separates a merchant from a scholar are the levels of learning. The fine line is crossed for those wealthy enough. Cultivation alone is not a viable profession. Few can generate income from just being a cultivator. The Nulu Clan hunts mana beasts and gathers plants rich with Immortal Energy from the wilderness. What is not consumed is sold. Cultivators cannot live on just the allowances given by the Clan Chief and Grand Elder; everyone has alternative forms of income. Older cultivators of the Clan take on administrative roles and pay themselves a higher salary. Main and auxiliary branches have properties. Many cultivators have farms. Some work the shops and farms.
Crenlan Nulu has a house with a shopfront. No other fixed asset. Land in the wilderness of the province are all owned by someone. The land-owning clans often transfer land ownership in exchange for protection fee. The more remote the property, the higher the fee. The maternal great grandfather of Vazarl Nulu paid the protection fee. The Nulu Clan, however, chose to ignore them when the arcane mana beast appeared because the losses to the Clan would have far exceeded future protection fee revenue.
The local magistrate investigated and found no wrongdoing. Regular patrolling cultivators did not reach in time was the reason given. The land “owner” was a migrant from War Moon Province. Neighboring cultivators turned a blind eye; they would have done the same. Insufficient evidence of misconduct on part of the “security” service provider. Shrewd, really.
Whether or not Vazarl Nulu would take the cultivator route, he would need to take the merchant route. That much he is certain. For a successful mercantile path, navigation of the existing legal framework is just as important as having an eye for business deals, sometimes more.
Invariably, Vazarl Nulu has to first take a step down the route of scholarly pursuits and be educated. The language barrier has lessened, but I am far from fluency. My parents never mentioned schooling and have not offered to teach me letters. What I have learned is from observing the scribbles of father for work orders and price signs of street vendors. My filial piety and clean record during the toddler years should enable me to wander about town unsupervised. The urban area is plenty safe. I can find a school, survey the attendees to evaluate cost, then inquire about enrollment.
Vazarl Nulu opened the doors to his room. The courtyard of their small house is practical. Wood of different sizes and shape are neatly aired in one corner. Under the awning are furniture pieces of varying degrees of completion. The workbench of Crenlan Nulu occupies another corner. The woodworking tools are hung on a board within reach.
As Crenlan Nulu worked, wood shavings fell onto the stone tiled floor. A lot has accumulated. Had Vazarl Nulu not been pondering his next step earlier, he would have cleaned up the workspace. Now is not too late. He swept the wood shavings into a coarse bag. He took the bag to the wood room by the kitchen.
Upon return, Vazarl Nulu gave a slight bow with lowered head, straight back, relaxed outstretched arms, clasped hands, thumbs tucked just like he has seen courteous learned men do. He waited for Crenlan Nulu to stop working, then said, “Father, this son wants to play in town. The saponin flowers mother is fond of is nearly out. This son wants to see if the vendors have samples mother might enjoy. We can pick them during the next visit to the forest.”
Crenlan Nulu smiled tiredly. “Good son. Take some lumens from the clerk and buy what you think your mother would like.”
Vazarl Nulu bowed again. “Thanks, father.”
Crenlan Nulu watched Vazarl Nulu walk to the shopfront. He then looked up to the sky. Heaven, little Vazarl is a good son. Filial to his mom and me. He is smart, learning many things on his own. Please bless him with good fortune. Crenlan Nulu looked in the direction of the shopfront and sighed. Good son, dad is useless and cannot send you to school.
