Without hesitation, the frog oriented itself to attack, bracing its long legs and flat body against the ground. Snips stood perfectly still, not moving a muscle.

“Ha! It’s terrified!” One of the blue-robed boy’s hangers-on shouted.

But that couldn’t have been farther from the case.

The frog’s tongue burst out, trailing sparks into the air as it shot for Snips like a whip of flame. It lashed horizontally through the air, carving a wide sweep of brilliant yellow-red fire.

And Snips simply jumped, wings expanding into a halo of purple, blue body leaving a brilliant azure trail on the sky as it went straight over the attack, scythe-claws raised for a piercing strike.

The frog, sensing death, chose to dive headfirst. Tongue still trailing out the side of its mouth, it kicked off with its mighty legs and slammed into Snips with a brutal headbutt. The two of them went tumbling across the ground, and the frog’s throat billowed out, throat sac inflating an instant before fire vented from its back. Its rolling tumble became a wheel of flame.

But once again, Snips had already escaped, flying backwards from the impact and landing on the edge of the ring.

The frog was bleeding. There was a massive cut down its side, left by the first collision.

Man, these duels are bloodier than I realized. Booker shook his head. I guess I was imagining it like a videogame, but this…

This is brutal.

The frog’s tongue flashed out. Once. Twice. Thrice. It chased Snips along the edge of the ring, but no matter what it tried, Snips was always too fast. Those buzzing wings didn’t even seem solid, a blur of crimson-purple vibrating behind the insect’s skinny body as it wove out of the way again and again.

In a few seconds, the fight broke into total chaos. Snips was everywhere, and flames washed wildly across the space, novices and cripples yelping as embers landed on their feet and legs.

Until…

Snips had fully crossed to the far side of the ring, where the blue-robed boy was standing. “Pathetic!” He laughed. “All it does is run!” But there was a nervous look in his eyes. Snips dodged once more, feinting back, and he suddenly lifted up his foot to stomp down.

“Snips!” Booker’s calm snapped in an instant, and he shouted out.

He needn’t have worried. The mantis dodged aside easily, flickering out of the foot’s path. But as he did, the frog sensed its moment and lunged forward, head bent down for a skull-bruising impact. Already in motion, Snips didn’t have time to alter his trajectory and dodge.

Instead he landed, dropping to the ground, bracing all four of its legs, and lifting his claws into an ‘x’ to defend.

The frog slammed into that guard–

And was stopped dead, Snips barely skidding back a half-inch at the impact. With a casual flick of his claws, it sent the frog spilling over onto its back. Without mercy, without even a flicker of hesitation, Snips lunged forward and lifted up his scythes, driving them down towards the exposed belly.

The frog managed to squirm onto its back and kick away, but in the process it exposed its long, powerful legs.

One flash of the scythe-claws and one of the frog’s legs was gone, leaving it to crash to the ground at the end of its jump.

“What!” The blue-robed boy hissed. His coterie of thugs had gone deathly silent. “How did your puny bug block that blow!”

I guess I won.

The wound on the frog’s side had ceased to bleed. No live, healthy red was spilling out. Instead, the edge of the wound had turned a swollen and ugly purple-black, and almost seemed to be turning liquid. It’s entire body was starting to necrose – to rot while still alive.

From that first blow, the fight had been decided. Snips had simply retreated to wait out its enemy’s inevitable death.

“Let’s call the duel here.” Booker said, stepping forward.

“Are you kidding! This stupid thing cost me five hundred liang! It can at least die fighting.” A furious scowl on his face, the blue-robed boy kicked at the frog. “Come on! Get up and fight!”

The frog let out a defeated croak, but lifted itself into a three-legged stance, still refusing to give up.

What a bastard… Booker gritted his teeth. What a complete psychopath. But maybe there’s a trick I can play…

“Snips, go easy!”

With a slimy flash, its burning tongue whipped out towards Snips. But it was a weak attack. The flames burned a low green instead of the usual yellow-red brilliance. Without even bothering to dodge, Snips whipped his claw through the air. It would have been trivially easy to slice the tongue in half, but instead, Snips merely knocked it aside with the back of his claw.

“Useless!” The boy snapped, but it really was over now. The frog slumped down and let out a defeated croak.

“You can afford to buy a better one, I’m sure.” Booker responded, as calmly as possible. But I have to play this carefully. I’m outnumbered and in for, at best, a beating if things go sideways.

“Oh, you think you’re smart, huh? Well, let’s see if you can afford your arrogance!” The blue-robed boy advanced, and Booker reached for his bag, slipping the vial of blinding powder into his palm.

“You.” Xan stepped forward, towering over the boy. “Watch your mouth, squirt. Getting cocky has already cost you, huh? Hand over the silver and take yourself somewhere else, because we’ve got no time for poor losers.”

“Are you too stupid to count! There are seven of us!” At the hint of a threat to their leader, the whole crowd of cultivators tensed. Fen and Zu stepped up alongside Xan, but all of their eyes had a nervous edge.

Definitely too many to fight.

“Brother, see reason. Didn’t you just say that beast was worth five hundred liang?” Booker intervened. “If you rush to the infirmary now, you might save it’s life and save yourself five hundred. What’s the point of fighting here over a sixty liang bet?”

“You think I want this trash?” The boy turned back towards the frog, lifting his foot to crush it.

“Stop that!” Booker shouted, stepping forward. “Fine, if you don’t want it, then I’ll buy it from you. Sixty liang is enough for a toad with three legs.”

The boy sneered for a moment, but he was calming down. His rage was leaving his veins, and he was cooling off slowly, letting embarrassment at this situation creep in. There were no good resolutions; if he hesitated in getting it care the frog would die, and if he rushed off in defeat, he’d lose face.

“Very well. You can pick my trash off the ground and pay me for the privilege.” He snorted. “I’m leaving this dismal place.”

You can spin it however you want. You lost – and you doubled down, losing a spirit beast worth five hundred liang instead of just sixty. Your pride makes you easy to play.

Booker waited for him to turn, then rushed to scoop the frog off the ground. Snips had flown up to his shoulder and gazed down in confusion as its master fed the beast a Mountain Recovery Pill.

Xan was grinding his teeth. “Ooo, I want to feed that bastard a brick and make him bite down.” He leaned over his shoulder. “Will it live, Rain?”

Booker nodded. “Not only will it live, it will fight again.”

That sucker.

“Brothers and sisters, forgive me, I have to go.” He said to the collection of people who remained in the little courtyard. Chen Jie and Xan nodded, and he began to run, sparing no haste in rushing down the halls and weaving past other disciples as he headed back for the safety of his room.

— — —

As soon as he slammed the door shut behind him, Booker pulled out the chests, which he’d hidden behind a loose bundle of clothes in hopes of disguising them from casual visitors. Nothing a determined thief wouldn’t spot, though…

He lay the beast down in the center of his gathering array, which he hoped would do something to help it recover. Placing his hands around its body, he murmured, “Dialyze.”

Crystal water flowed in droplets through the air, accumulating into pearl-sized spheres that flowed together into beautiful, diamond-clear rivers. From these rivers a galactic wheel was formed, a spiraling flow that washed the poison free from the frog’s wounds in clumps of vile black material that flaked away as the water coursed over it.

Not satisfied, he reached into the chest and took out a spray of herbs with the Poison Purging property. Crushing them up roughly with the edge of his knife on the floor, he swept the resulting green paste into his hands, sprinkled in a satchel of beast bone meal for a binding agent, and closed his palms around the rough mixture.

“Furnace.”

Blue fire blazed within his hands, venting out between his fingers. When he opened them, a dark pill was nestled in his palm.

Incredible. Just like that…

How many alchemists would give half their fingers for this ability.

He reached down and coaxed the frog to swallow another medicine. This time, rather than weakly gulp as Booker held the medicine to its lips, the frog’s tongue actually shot out and seized the pill. Booker smiled; that could only be a good sign. The frog’s throat bulged out as it gulped, and then it began to struggle forward, getting up onto its feet. Steam hissed from the vents on its back.

“You’re a fighter, alright.” Booker praised. It leaned forward and vomited a curdled black mass, which began to inch across the floor, squishing and expanding itself like an inchworm trying to squirm away. Booker grimaced and reached for something to smash it with, but the pollution was actively burning away, an almost-invisible white flame surrounding it and eating in from the edges until only a trail of ash remained.

Then the frog flopped onto its side, exhausted, and closed its eyes. Only the slow rise and fall of its breath assured him it was still alive.

That and that Snips seemed outraged.

“Hey…” Booker said, and the little mantis actively hopped further away from him, flying off his shoulder to land on the desk. “Don’t give me that. This little guy’s worth five hundred liang! Sure, he’s a bit scuffed up, but I can fix that.”

And even if it costs me medicine, well, its medicine I can’t sell.

Medicine I can’t sell into a spirit beast I can.

That’s got to be a bargain worth taking, right now.

But Snips refused to be persuaded. The little mantis reared up, flailing his claws at the air.

“Fine, fine. We’ll find you something else to fight, I promise. And I won’t make a habit of stealing prey from you, either.” Long term… I can’t spare every beast we fight, and that’s a fact of life. The stars just happened to align to make saving this one… profitable.

But that logic didn’t sit entirely right with Booker, even so.

When he looked into Rain’s memories, he saw a dangerous world. Some might say a bad one. Human life simply didn’t hold much value, because the cruelty of the elements, the native beasts, and the constant plagues all conspired to keep its price low. Cultivators in particular walked a road where it was dirt cheap. If you valued others' lives as much as your own, you would be the first to die.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

That was a fact, and one he knew he needed to harden his heart to. A cultivator – a true cultivator – would have saved the frog only for the profit he could make selling it on.

Booker had done so out of pity first, and with profit a distant second.

He tucked away his medicine boxes again, once again reminding himself to seek somewhere safer to hide them. Leaving the frog with a spoonful of water and a small beetle he plucked from the windowsill, he stepped back outside the room, Snips riding on his shoulder.

Fen was standing in the corridor.

"Oh." He paused. "Is everything alright?"

"Rain." Fen said. "Unless I'm mistaken, and I'm not, you've changed recently. Just when you should be at your lowest, you walk like you could drag the world behind you."

Fuck. I guess there's no escaping it – me and Rain are different enough that even my posture is a hint that something's changed.

But Fen wasn't done speaking. "Unless I'm mistaken… you've encountered some life-changing luck."

Damn damn damn. Despite preparing for this since he arrived here, Booker felt the first strains of panic rising in his heart. "I guess I realized I wasn't living the life I wanted. And whatever my circumstances were, however far down the mountain I was starting, the only way to reach what I wanted was to start climbing."

It was true enough for him to say with confidence; there was a world where Rain had woken up and changed his life for the better. Booker was simply living that life on his behalf.

"Luck only comes to the determined." Fen agreed. "But you can relax. I'm not here to steal from you, Rain. I've… had my own encounter with fate."

Oh. Ohhhhh.

Is this good? He doesn't suspect that I'm not Rain, not at all.

But he's on the trail of the book.

"I might have encountered some luck, that's true." No sense in denying it. If things are going to keep turning around for me, he'll only double down on his suspicions. "But it's more a change of attitude."

"See?" Fen smiled. It was a soft smile, and one that reminded Booker that this was Rain's friend. No matter how vicious the politics of the Sect were, he wasn't about to coldly turn on his long-time companion for a chance at treasure. Now, if only I was actually Rain, I'd have nothing to worry about. "That's what people who haven't been blessed, don't understand. There are some fortunes you can only meet with gratitude. Just the generosity of what you've been given, compels you to use it to truly follow your dreams."

"It's…" Booker bit back the first evasion that came to mind. No, that's the wrong move. Not just in terms of escaping suspicion, but in terms of making an ally. If I'm in this position… I can escape by not trying to escape. "I wish I could share the perspective my luck has given me, but I'm a little busy hiding it, I suppose."

Fen smiled more broadly at that. "I know what you mean, and that's why I'm here. That disciple spotted you right away."

"Yeah, he did. And so did you." Booker paused, and blinked. Hold up. I was so busy panicking I didn't even question it, but how did they both spot me?

"One answer: martial intent. A true cultivator can kill simply by wishing to kill, because the will is the divinity of the soul. Your will is growing strong enough that you have first-stage martial intent, and any disciple will be able to spot it. The other cripples have all lost their divine will, so you stand out." Fen held up a finger. "But we can change that."

He turned and walked down the hall, leaving Booker to trail after him in confusion.

They moved to the practice hall, and took one of the private meditation rooms off to the side, where the only furnishing was a small table with a candle. Fen lit that candle with a touch, fire leaping off his finger.

“Sit down. Center yourself.” He instructed.

So this isn’t some strange interrogation tactic. He’s just… helping me…

Booker’s relief manifested as a small smile as he sat himself down. He almost asked directly how Fen managed to do that candle-lighting trick, but he restrained the question – the answer probably required being a cultivator first.

“Close your eyes. As you breath, hold back slightly. Never fully exhale, never fully inhale. In your mind, slowly wash yourself clean of desires. Imagine each breath as a wave washing into your body and taking away some of the trash and debris of the mind – the things you want, the things you covet, all the anger, all the pain.” Fen spoke in a slow monotone. The rhythm of his words became hypnotic.

Booker tried to follow along, steadying his breathing into a perpetually-interrupted rhythm and letting his mind vacate itself, leaving behind everything but the few thoughts that remained scratching at the back of his skull. Those, he tried to wipe away, but they persistently returned.

What if that silkpants comes back to cause trouble for Chen Jie and the rest?

What if Fen is only luring me into letting down my guard?

And beneath them all, something that had been growing.

Who killed that child and put them in the wall? Are they still out there? Will it happen again?

“Extend your hand and move it over the top of the flame, swiftly enough not to be burned.” Fen instructed and demonstrated. As his hand passed over the flame it remained oddly still, a static teardrop of blue nested within a teardrop of red, as if the wind and motion of his hand didn’t move it at all.

Booker nodded and mimicked the gesture. As his hand passed through the heat of the flame, the fire immediately bent and flickered, blue and red blending together as it toppled over from the wind and then reformed.

He stared at his hand in concentration, and tried again to the same result.

“It isn’t the movement that matters. This is a qi flame. As long as your martial intent is suppressed, it won’t bend at all.” Fen explained. “But don’t be surprised if it takes time. I learned this technique when I was six, and it took me the better part of a year. As an adult? You should be able to do it in less than a month.”

Booker nodded. “Thank you. I guess I didn’t know about… Well, I didn’t know any of this. I probably would’ve walked around standing out like a sore thumb until you told me.”

“It’s really nothing. This is just a technique the hunters from my clan used to pass unseen.” Standing up, Fen added, “The rest of our friends are already on their way to Demon Long’s teahouse. Stay and practice if you want, but come sooner rather than later, or Xan will drink all the wine again.”

“I’ll follow you in a bit. I just…” Booker grinned. “Hate to leave something unfinished.”

“You’re unlikely to grasp it in an afternoon, but…” Fen paused at the doorway. “It’s not unheard of. Legends speak of children who are born knowing divine will.”

“Ha. Then I’m a few years behind already.”

As Fen closed the door and left, Booker ran his hand over the flame once more. And again. And again.

The heat licked at the underside of his palm, but the flame continually warped and danced with the slight disturbance of his hand, bending around the disruption of the air. He concentrated. Pushed his thoughts clean, except for the lingering doubts that refused to be cleansed.

What if –

What if –

Who –

They reverberated through his mind. Since he arrived here, pressure had slowly been building on him. The pressure of lying constantly, concealing himself, and the simple day-to-day troubles of Rains existence, the merciless way disciples treated those beneath them – it was filling up his heart.

A cultivator had an answer to these questions:

If the silkpants comes back to cause trouble, I’ll kill him.

If Fen is setting me up, I’ll kill him.

Whoever it is – I’ll kill them!

But that wasn’t Booker. If his heart would someday be hard enough to kill without hesitation, it wasn’t today. And he needed answers that reflected him.

How do I solve this then?

If that silkpants comes back to cause trouble for Chen Jie and the rest…

“Hey…” Booker cracked an eye open from his meditative stance. He glanced over to the mantis on his shoulder. “Snips, you’re a hunter right? So… You know how to sit and wait for prey… Could you follow the other cripples and make sure they’re safe?”

The mantis wiggled its claws, then took off and buzzed around the room before returning.

“I’m going to trust that’s a yes…” He said as it landed. “Come find me if they’re in trouble.”

As for Fen…

I don’t really know Fen. Or, Rain never really knew him. He keeps to himself – I think this would be the most he’d ever opened up to Rain.

But it doesn’t seem like he’ll betray me to the Sect. That would already have happened. If it’s anything, he might be plotting to find out what my treasure is – in other words, he suspects I have something like the book, and wants to lure me into revealing it.

I want to trust him, honestly. I don’t want to be suspicious of everyone, but at the same time, I have to guard my secret…

There’s no guarantee – in fact, it’s unlikely – he’d be my friend if he knew I wasn’t really Rain.

Booker rested his head in his hands. Underneath these questions, which seemed endless, there was one question, which he could answer.

When will I stop lying about my identity?

Because until I do, I won’t be able to trust a single person.

At first it had seemed easy to slot into Rain’s life, and avoid leaving everyone with the impression Rain had vanished in shame after being branded a cripple.

Now he realized he simply couldn’t live with the pressure of living two lives. It wasn’t in his nature to lie.

But he could give Rain some kind of triumphant ending, then disappear…

Yes, that might do.

As for Fen… He actually gave me the key to trusting him. He said he’d encountered ‘life-changing luck’ as well. Meaning some kind of treasure or blessing like my own.

We actually know the same amount of each other’s secrets – we both know the other has a treasure, but not what.

I’ll take that as a peace offering, but just in case, I’ll make sure never to show off my other powers around him. Not unless he does first.

As long as he carefully managed how much Fen knew, there was no threat – turning Booker over to the Sect would just endanger his own secrets. And who knows? Maybe this was the bridge to a true trust between them.

As for the last…

I promised to my master I’d wait to investigate.

But I met those three scam artists. They can investigate for me. I don’t think they’re very competent, but they should be able to follow simple instructions. As long as I don’t expose myself to danger, the letter and the spirit of my promise can survive.

Yes.

The reality of my worries is – why worry about what I can solve?

As long as I act with forethought, act as honestly as I can, and keep my promises, I’ll have nothing to worry about.

I might have to resort to violence… if the silkpants comes after me, I definitely will…

Fuck it. If it comes to that, I’ll really kill the bastard and try to leave no witnesses.

But in a situation where I can reasonably avoid killing, I will.

I might still become a cultivator – but I refuse to accept the logic of needless murder.

The more he resolved these questions, the more easy he felt, as if weights were being lifted from his breathing. It became easier to control the air within his body, and he started to feel something moving within him, like a musical chime resonating throughout his flesh and bone with each breath inwards.

The candle’s flame was as straight as a razor’s edge.

He waved his hand over it.

It bent, but far less than before. Where before it had nearly toppled over and had to twist back up, now it only shivered faintly.

Booker laughed faintly. Some part of him had really believed he was going to be one-in-a-million and instantly grasp the technique that took others months. But this, this was still excellent progress.

He smiled as he snuffed the flame out.

— — —

When he joined the others at the tea house, the party was well underway.

Xan had a maid sitting on his lap, his big arm wrapped around the back of his chair as one enormous hand cupped her waist. She was pouring him wine, while two others doted on Zu, who finally looked like the prince he dreamed of being with a woman on each arm. It was a scene of hedonism and luxury, and the cripples, while the girls ignored them, were happy to drink wine and enjoy the laughter of the moment. Booker smiled at the scene.

As soon as they saw him, the whole crowd lifted their bowls and cheered. Even the quiet Fen, sitting at the back with his own jug of wine, lifted his cup and mouthed something Booker couldn’t hear above the noise.

Sitting down, Booker was quickly swept away by the happy chatter, listening to how this disciple had offended this elder brother and was due a beatdown, how this duel had ended in disgrace for this young master. While the disciples told stories of honor and combat, the cripples had their own gossip full of the countless things they witnessed while serving menial tasks, about this jade beauty trifling with a young man’s heart, these students creeping away to pursue a secret romance, and many other things.

I should have realized – if I want to know more about Fen, I just need to ask. I have many brothers and sisters in the cripples, and they’re surely used to trading information about the people they serve.

In fact, at that moment Chen Jie was sidling up to him, sprawling drunkenly onto a cushion besides Booker.

“Excellent treatment.” He said with a tone of barely-restrained laughter. “We can only hope to party like this every day.”

“When one is in good company, every day’s a party.” Booker noted with a smile. “How much am I paying for this?”

“Nothing! Your princely friend,” he nodded towards Fen, “is showing us his generosity. This much wine would have sent you straight back to poverty. No, your winnings are safe from us greedy guests. It’s only eighty liang, because that bastard scared most everyone else out of chipping into the pot, and minus sixteen for my fee… But if I know my spirit beasts, that frog you scooped up should be back to health and ready to sell soon. Regrowing limbs only takes a few weeks for a monster.”

“You know a lot about spirit beasts.” Booker said.

“I’ve had a lot of time to learn.” Chen Jie chuckled. “A lot of time spent betting on horses, monsters, men. You learn to pick a champion when you see one…”

Booker just sipped his wine, taking the small purse of coins Chen Jie offered. Inside were ten-liang coins shaped like tridents, split into three clumsy prongs with rough edges where the mint had formed the molten metal. On each fork was a single character.

This is the start of a fortune. Booker promised as he tucked it away. But what he said was, “Brother Jie, you seem like a man who’s chased his fair share of dreams. Did you ever search for a medicine that could cure a cripple.”

“Heh. Of course I did – plenty of us have. I can only tell you where not to look. The forests and valleys near the Mantis Sect are crawling with foragers. For such a rare thing, you would have to venture far afield, to somewhere perilous enough that treasures can go unnoticed.”

As they talked, Chen Jie leaned over drunkenly and began to scratch Snips on the head. After a few moments of crooning nonsense to the spirit beast, he simply fell over, snoring. Snips scrambled down his arm and up onto his shoulder, then turned to wave his claws at Booker.

“I see, I see. You’re truly doing a good job of protecting him.”

— — —

He stumbled home drunk, and immediately noted the frog was no longer in the circle. It had moved to lie on top of the spare clothes he’d covered the medicine chests with, guarding them like an obedient dog. Although its eyes were closed its breathing was steady, and Booker noticed the stump of its severed leg had a strange cap of new flesh, a lighter color than the rest of the frog’s skin; he couldn’t be sure but he thought it was the product of a slow regeneration.

Slumping into his bed, he stared up at the ceiling for a moment.

Today, I came up with my own answers. Tomorrow, I’ll put them into practice.