He built the chicken coop himself which was why a few had gotten out and died between the formations and the coop walls. Since his initial mistakes he had increased the distance between the formations and walls to keep from killing livestock. The walls were thick and nailed in well to prevent foxes from slipping a paw inside to drag out chickens piece by piece. The donkey near the coop chased off any canine that came close and wasn’t fond of raccoons either.

 

He let them roam to forage and eat the lime disease carrying ticks during the day. Silas hated those, especially when he had to pull them off Dotty’s anus. That wasn’t the type of attention his nag enjoyed the most. He was certain she felt embarrassed, which said a lot about her growing intelligence.

 

As for the chickens, a coop of them had been used to see if they could naturally consume the worms without becoming demon beasts. It wasn’t impossible some cultivators used demonic cores to supplement their cultivation instead of pills because of their convenience. But, of course, there were dangers in cultivating demonic cores, like there were dangers in using pills.

 

It's why Silas valued his farm and formations. Silas was, in a sense cultivating as naturally as possible even if, at its base, the process was unnatural. He turned his plot into a spiritual land and made some farm animals spirit beasts.

 

Much of his plan hinged on further locking higher concentrations of spirit energy in his land to make cultivation easier. His experiment with the chickens was a part of that. He wanted to see if they could adapt to eat the equivalent of demonic worms.

 

He opened the door to his coop and saw his chickens. They were changed but weren’t quite spirit beasts. On the other hand, they had doubled in size, and the larger ones nearly reached his knee.

 

The birds had grown.

 

They didn’t have a trace of malignant energy in their bodies, so he wasn’t planning on culling them. Instead, Silas took a handful of cut-up worms and tossed them to the chickens sending them into a frenzy. Silas checked their eggs to see they had doubled in size with the chickens. He could even sense some spirit energy in them.

 

So far, his experiment has been marginally successful. In a few more weeks, he would let them out and see how they deal with the other coops of chickens. Then, after he made sure they wouldn’t murder the other chickens, Silas would consider the experiment a success and start feeding the worms to the other coops.

 

“Sir, could I have a word,” Cletus said from behind him.

 

He made to turn around only to hear the hammer of a musket pull back. Silas sighed at the annoyance.

 

“Don’t turn around,” Cletus said.

 

Silas focused on the gun's barrel with his aura. He began slowly but surely cutting through the barrel under the powder. The barrel was thick, so it would take some time.

 

“Art thou betraying me for making light of thy digression. Tis no shame in using an animal; they have ever been our tools; what’s wrong with finding another use for them.”

 

“Mayhap, this evil wasn’t a problem until I worked for thee. I was a good man, a good Christian.” Cletus said.

 

He worked quickly on the barrel, cutting away a little with his aura at a time. Sweat started to flow down his back from the effort. If he could see to focus on it, the act would be easier, and it was harder to be subtle than to unleash his full might.

 

“I have witnessed no evil from thee. Methinks, a good Christian wouldn’t raise a weapon to thy boss. Rebellion isn’t the way of the Christ.” Silas said.

 

“Thou art a non-believer; what do thou know of the Christ?” Cletus demanded.

 

“He preached for peace and to turn the other cheek when struck,” Silas said.

 

Silas hadn’t used his spiritual pressure like a scalpel before. He almost wanted to strike directly, but there was the chance Cletus could pull the trigger before Silas was ready.

 

“Mayhap he did, but thou preach to gather power and compete against the heavens. Mayhap by striking thou down, I can take this place and work with the heavens.” Cletus said.

 

He missed the metaphor completely. The idiot wanted to kill Silas and then what, work for Soul Society. Or did he consider the heavens the British royal government? Silas wasn’t sure, nor was he willing to take a musket blast to the back.

 

Silas felt it when the hole was complete, and the gunpowder poured on the ground. He wasn’t sure if the musket blast would have killed him; he was more than 10 paces from the weapon. There was also the option of moving away before Cletus could pull the trigger. Silas had never felt lighter, but it was better to disarm the weapon.

 

With the gunpowder at Cletus’s feet, Silas turned around and heard a click and a small bang. The musket ball flew out of the gun’s barrel and fell into chicken shit.

 

“What tree do thou wish to be hung from. Methinks, the tree near the horse stalls would be best.” Silas said as he moved up to the tall high yellow man and threw him.

 

Grappling was one of the few martial arts forms he excelled at in the old world. Taking someone’s balance and moving them where he wanted them was always fun. Silas took the gun the man clung to and tossed it aside.

 

“Good God believing Sirrah allow me to assure thou thy resentful corpse shall be put to good use,” Silas said.

 

“Thou art a monster,” Cletus said.

 

“Mayhap teaching thou was a mistake. I had hoped teaching thou would earn some loyalty. Get them when they art young, the religious zealots say. Methinks thy loyalty was already bought with promises long ago, promises so glorious thy identity has been entwined with them. Good fortune for thou Shinigami art present to prevent thy soul from going hollow. Sheol tis thy only recourse once sent on thy way. Tis belief that guides the soul in the end once all tethers to this realm art cut.” Silas said.

 

 

Silas flared his aura, and Eugene came dressed in a fabulous doublet with fur around his neck. He looked between Cletus and Silas and seemed to get a handle on the situation.

 

“Was he having relations with the chickens as well? I understand thou have not seen it as offensive. But he has gone against thy orders to confine such digressions to a designated shack.”

 

“He’s a sorcerer and a consorter with demons; thou can’t trust him,” Cletus said.

 

Eugene brushed his black dyed hair out of his eyes. “Methinks thou should have proof before accusations art made.”

 

Silas sighed and shook his head. “His crime is far worse than mere indulgent animal husbandry. Cletus held me at gunpoint to kill me and take my land.” Silas said.

 

“Yes, all he needed to do was get some townspeople to come this way and see thy fence. Then, conclusions would be drawn, and he would have been heralded as a hero. What will thou do with him?” Eugene asked.

 

“He will be hung on the tree overlooking the barn, and there it will be feasted upon. Have the people gathered so we can take care of this quickly?” Silas said.

 

“Thou art decisive, and I approve. Betrayal cannot be forgiven.” Eugene said.

 

The bount vanished on the wind leaving him alone again with Cletus, who hadn’t stood up from the ground. Silas couldn’t imagine what was going through the man’s mind. Why didn’t he pull the trigger instead of having words? It was incompetence that deserved an execution.

 

“Thou will be exposed, and the people will drive thee from thy home,” Cletus said.

 

Silas shook his head. “I would slaughter the Sirrah in town one by one, create vast formations to suck the very life from them and take their good puritan women to my bed. Methinks, thou have underestimated my power from the beginning. While most of what I do is carving and post-driving, there is a subtle purpose.” Silas sighed and shook his head. “Cletus, I liked thou, but for thy crimes, thou will hang,” Silas said.

 

“God will welcome me in his holy kingdom,” Cletus said.

 

“Thou could have been immortal and built a kingdom for thyself on earth. Instead, thou pointed a gun at my back and spent thy life poorly. We were about to raid, slay savages, and take women. Thou could have had children on many squaws, raised them as righteous cultivators, and built thy own sect. Even if thou wanted to build thy sect around Christian teachings, I wouldn’t have stopped thee.” Silas said.

 

“Will thou let me pray before my execution?” Cletus asked.

 

“The people art gathered pray if it makes though feel better,” Silas said.

 

He felt angry and wanted to throttle Cletus for forcing his hand. Silas couldn’t allow betrayal, and he couldn’t exile Cletus either. Maybe it would feel better if he snapped the overseer’s neck, but that wouldn’t look good. For an execution, there were customs to uphold.

 

Silas grabbed Cletus by the man’s neck and walked towards the tree. The man didn’t fight, instead mouthing what Silas was sure were prayers. He wasn’t a believer, but he hoped Cletus didn’t go to hell. Silas wasn’t interested in seeing the chains of hell emerge before a raid. Then again, if he didn’t see them, that would say more about hell and Cletus than them showing up.

 

One of the two Shinigami were present to send Cletus off immediately after the hanging.

 

Silas tossed Cletus on the ground, grabbed the rope, and leaped up to the thickest tree branch. He tied it well enough and jumped off, easing his fall with careful aura control. Eugene took the rope, quickly tied a noose, and brought his mare out before using some spare rope to tie Cletus’s hands behind his back.

 

“What art his crimes?” Jackson asked.

 

“He aimed a gun at my back and pulled the trigger. Mayhap he shouldn’t have been frugal with the gunpowder.” Silas said.

 

“I wouldn’t say tis a pleasure, but it was my horse thou laid with. Methinks the gates of hell will come for thee.” Eugene said.

 

Once his hands were tied and the noose was around his neck, Cletus was ready for his journey into the supernatural realms. Unless Silas destroyed the man’s soul, he was certain they would fight again. But, unfortunately, such an act would call the negative attention of soul society. He wasn’t anywhere near strong enough for that.

 

Silas waited for Eugene to clear before walking behind the mare and slapping its rear. The horse galloped forward, yanking on Cletus’s neck but not breaking it. Cletus had cultivated enough to make his neck too sturdy to break from a hanging. So instead, the overseer would choke to death.

 

He watched the life leave the man’s eyes as the plus soul escaped the body. It hadn’t been on the ground a moment before the Shinigami tapped its head with his hilt. Silas heard the jingle of chains before a set of skeletal gates appeared.

 

“No, thou can’t do this,” Cletus said. “I was a good Christian. What I did was for God.” Cletus yelled, but the gates of hell didn’t care.

 

Silas pulled out his pipe and lit it before sucking in good tobacco. Chains leaped from the gate and latched onto Cletus, lifting him in the air as a massive sword pressed out of the gate.

 

“Clearly, faith in God has no bearings on the gates of hell, or perhaps betrayal is an unforgivable sin. So I want to say goodbye, Cletus; we will not see each other again unless thou manage to crawl out.”

 

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