Gai Jin was bathed in rage, as he always was. He chased and chased, through the sky, through the air, through the ground at times, but the old man evaded him. He always evaded him.

He had filled his coffers with stones wrought of demonic qi. He had turned on his duty, using the thing beneath to grow rich instead of keeping it down like he should have.

But Gai Jin had received something from the demonic corpse as well.

Battle. Pain. Power. Growth.

He had borne the consequences of Gai Lui’s actions. He had broken ten thousand demons and he had broken ten thousand more.

He had drunk their blood when he ran out of water, and he had eaten their flesh when he had run out of rats.

He remembered the first time he had done it. Demonic qi eats at you. It was poison to a monk like him. It was hell.

But it was either hell on earth or a slow-waning death, and Gai Jin had too much rage to die in that pit alone. He had learned to cleanse it from his flesh. He had forced his stomach to digest. The Bloody Fist Technique was their holy script, a technique passed down from a seventh-rank immortal.

And Gai Jin had twisted it, mixing and matching parts of it with an old poison-eating technique. The result was a lesser thing, a disrespect to the technique. But Gai Jin had no choice.

And that had been the start of his survival. Refine the stomach, refine the legs, refine the skull, bones, and muscle, over and over again. Eat demons, drink blood, and grow stronger.

He killed evil, he ate evil, and he bathed in it.

And yet he remained good. Not a bit of him had been spoiled, not a part of him taken. He who had been sent to die in the pit as a mere third rank, had lived.

For all his suffering, he had grown.

Ninth Step of the Fifth Rank, on the precipice of immortality. He had reached the Dragon’s Gate, and now all he had to do was leap over it.

Gai Jin smiled. The expression felt foreign to him, but it wasn’t one filled with joy.

Immortality was a strange thing. It was never something he had strived for. He wanted to be a great monk, a great person. He wanted to be the type of person he had thought his master was.

Cultivation, well, that was a path to greatness. It was the means through which he could do good. He was a monk and as some might use a broom or a shovel, he used his qi. The strength was important, but more than that, his dao was important.

He had to know his path to traverse it. More than the power and the lifespan, he sought his dao.

And this was the final step. He had to make and choose the thing that would make him immortal, carve out the shadow of his being. It could still change and grow afterward, but a dao was a path after all. It could lead you anywhere, you could make turns and twists and change it as you grew.

But a wrong turn could get you lost. And if you went the wrong way, well how long would it be until you knew it? How far would you travel until turning back would take too much of you to do so?

You choose the road, but not the journey.

Gai Jin leapt and the ground beneath him shattered. He flew through clouds and thunder, rain, and fog.

There was no use in silence. His opponent had something to detect him with, one of the many treasures he’d gained from allowing that demonic qi to roam free.

He struck. His master moved.

They were equals in rank, the ninth step of the fifth rank. Equal in power, but far different in technique.

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Gai Jin moved.

The air screamed at his force and even the clouds above parted in agony. The rain went up and the earth was broken, and Gai Lui blocked.

Flesh met metal. Gai Lui had a shield, another treasure. The echoes of the strike went through them both and the shield threw Gai Jin backwards.

Enough of this! His master yelled.

He had spoken with qi and with aura because his mouth would have been far too slow. The words were instant and all at once.

But Gai Jin didn’t spare them an ounce of thought. He ran back at him with fists that would make even iron. He struck, with both hands this time, one from the left, one from the right.

Gai Lui chose to block the one from the right and Gai Lui’s right hand turned from a fist to a palm. He grabbed the shield and pain shot through his right arm, tearing at all his muscles and nerves.

Death qi.

It was no use. Gai Jin’s right hand remained, pulling the shield and Gai Lui with it. His left hand hammered against his opponent’s forearm.

And Gai Lui bled.

In battle, technique mattered. Strength mattered, as well as ability. And while Gai Jin and Gai Lui were tied in those, they differed in three important ways.

Gai Jin had mastered the Bloody Fist technique completely, incorporating its principles not only into his fist but his legs, skin, and even stomach.

That was the first difference.

Gai Jin struck again and this time, Gai Lui bled.

Gai Lui pushed more qi into the shield and it in turn pushed more death qi into Gai Jin’s arm.

Gai Jin let go, his left arm hanging limply for a second.

Gai Lui moved, punching with his shield hand, using the edge of the shield to try and attack Gai Jin.

But Jin moved with him, leaping into the attack with all his fury. Lui would strike him from the right, this would be true. But Jin would strike him from the left.

Gai Lui’s unshielded arm still bled and as the two met each other, Lui brought the shield in front of him. Gai Jin’s fist rang against the shield and again it echoed, pushing Gai Jin back and hundred paces.

“Coward,” Gai Jin said.

Gai Lui pushed a movement technique. The Monk’s Holy Steps.

Gai Jin matched him. He was a disciple of the Bloody Fist Sect after all. And not just any disciple, but the direct disciple of the soon-to-be Patriarch. He had access to all the manuals he could ever want. He could use any art he sought.

And Gai Jin had sought them all.

They were even in everything except three things and of those three, Gai Jin was better at two.

Gai Jin was gaining on him. It was the same technique, but in Gai Jin’s hands, it was better, faster.

The second difference was talent.

Gai Lui had killed a mortal just to be able to raise Gai Jin himself. He had seen the boy’s potential and wanted to nourish him. His lower dantian alone was a rare thing, a one-in-a-billion talent. But that had been just one part of the boy’s gifts.

He could use techniques in an amazing way. Refine them, mix them, make them into something new, or touch the core of them like no one else could. His mind was keen. He never forgot and ideas that would be complex to his peers seemed like mere math to the boy.

And even now at the fifth stage, that talent shone.

The Monk’s Holy Steps were a third more effective in Gai Jin’s hand than in Gai Lui’s. Gai Jin had almost caught up in an instant.

Gai Lui prepared the shield and took out another treasure.

The third difference was materialistic. It was something that could be taken away, something that could be lost. But here in the midst of battle, it meant everything.

Wealth.

Treasures gained from merchants that came in from outside of the region, talismans made within the Void Blade Empire’s true territory. Objects from where the empire’s soldiers actually stood guard and taxed the denizens.

Artifacts.

Gai Lui smacked his talisman and speed came upon him. He was close now. He could see the dry desert lands in the distance and it called to him like paradise.

All those other attempts, while some had been tests, most had been distractions. Moments, when Gai Jin’s rage was focused on him, allowed his sect to slowly move his wealth into the Great Desert Strip.

Treasures and spirit stones for his tribute. He had gathered many things, so many that they could not be stored in a single spacial ring, or even a thousand of them. The immortal had kept him out, forcing the teleport sequences away, but surely this would change his mind.

Gai Lui had prepared his wealth and moved it slowly with the merchants. If worse came to be, he would tell the immortal the source of his wealth and let him have it.

He found himself lighter, moving at least twice as fast. Gai Lui looked back and sensed Gai Jin growing distant, as much as the man tried to keep up.

He had sought death the last time he was here, but that had been foolish. It would have been a worthy death, to be killed by an immortal, a death full of pride.

But that had failed. The man had seen straight through him.

Now he would enter his domain, asking him only one thing. To keep his rule, to honor his promise.

To make sure no violence would happen within the Great Desert Strip, by the pride of the Immortal Oasis Sect.

His pride was hurt by that, but not too much.

To Gai Lui, he was not running from death or pain. He was running from shame.

The shame he has hidden so thoroughly came out and chased him under the guise of his disciple.

He had only killed the whore because she was unworthy of raising such a blessed child. She was shameful. But now that act of cleansing had come back and turned into a horrible thing, a stain he alone couldn’t wash out.