“Liu Huan, right?” Sendai asked, setting down yet another basket of peaches outside the sect’s winery.

Liu may have been wearing blue at the ranking duels, but the only sign of it now was a long sky-blue ribbon tying his hair back in a tightly-rolled bun. Otherwise he looked every part the Mountain Mantis outer sect neophyte, just like Sendai. Liu wasn’t drenched in sweat, though.

“Hm?” Liu looked up from stacking his baskets. He could carry two at a time.

“We were at the neophyte’s ceremony, couple days ago. I’m Sendai.” He approached, starting to offer his hand to shake, but when Liu just stared, he awkwardly wiped it off on his pants. Bowed, instead.

Liu nodded uncertainly. “Are you Japanese?” The question seemed important to him.

“Oh, uh. No. Westerner. English-speaker.”

Liu grunted, and nodded, looking Sendai over again, inspecting him anew. “What do you want?”

“Just want to shoot the shit. Might as well chat while we get these unloaded.” He gestured at the cart loaded down with peach baskets, each one the size of a half barrel keg.

Lieu kept watching him, a smirk dragging at the side of his lips. “What a curious idiomatic expression.” His speech still didn’t match up with his lips’ movement, but the translation system in Eight Kingdoms was fantastic if it made any sense of ‘shoot the shit’. He drifted over to a nearby low stone wall, picked a flower from the grass on the other side and regarded its petals. “And what is it you want to discuss?”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind asking you a couple of questions. But, uhh.” Sendai wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Weather’s pretty good. Always like this around here, or does it change?”

Liu lifted one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “You are so new you do not know if the weather changes?”

“Started up the same day I went to the neophyte trials.” Sendai clambered up into the cart, dragged the next peach basket out.

“The seasons are short, and the lunar cycle is nine days long.” Liu gestured dismissively with the flower, waving it by the stalk. “But that’s not what you’re interested in, is it? Ask, if you must.”

Sendai sucked down a breath, after getting the peach basket down. Thing had to weigh a hundred and sixty pounds, easy. He’d only managed six baskets, so far. “Y’know that thing you did in the duel with Mao Lin?”

Liu rolled his eyes. “The gathering and cultivation of qi is a very advanced—”

“Nah, nah. The toe-hook thing.” Sendai hopped down and skimmed his toe in the dust, tracing out an arc. “I don’t understand the qi stuff yet. Is there a name for that hooky thing you did?”

“Just a toe sweep. Nothing special.”

“You know any close in ones? Could have used something like that in my duel with Black Hound.”

“Perhaps some,” Liu replied, flower sinking between his fingers, forgotten. “Are you going to ask about qi? See if I will give you my secrets?”

“Dude. I ain’t ready for qi yet.” Sendai narrowed his eyes at Liu, before bending for the next peach basket. He hoisted it up with a grunt. “People trying to make friends with you because you’re powerful or something?”

“Of course.” Liu rolled his eyes. “What is the fastest way to cultivate my qi, master Liu. Do you have spare mystic herbs from the inner country – as if I am their senior and not a third rank neophyte.”

“Can I give you some advice?” Sendai asked, after struggling the peach basket into the pile just outside the winery.

“Of course.”

“I’ve been in your shoes, man.” Sendai gestured vaguely. “Out beyond-the-wall or whatever, before BlackStar Galaxy shut down, I had a rep, cool gear, the skills, all that.” He bent double. Talking that much left him breathless. After a moment’s panting, he pushed himself back to standing. “There will always be people who want to exploit you to get ahead. If you wanna make time to help them, do that but set a limit on it. Like an hour of helping out and no more after that.” Sendai dismissively swept his hand, as if clearing a table. “Just straight up tell them you’ve got other stuff on your mind, you ain’t gonna help ‘em today, and ignore them if they keep pestering you. You gotta have boundaries.”

Liu settled his chin in his hand, fingers covering his mouth as he looked Sendai over yet again, taking him in freshly with this third inspection.

“What?” Sendai asked, leaning on the cart’s back, huffing for breath.

Liu flicked his flower away, over the stone wall. “It is surprising to hear such wisdom from someone who is unable to meet the challenge of otherwise meaningless menial labour.”

Sendai smirked. Gestured at the baskets. “Hey I’ve done, like. Seven of these mothers. I’m meeting the challenge.”

Liu moved like he didn’t weigh anything. Just stepped up onto the cart like he was walking on silk, plucked up two of the baskets, one in either hand, and whirled with them through the air. Toes coming down to tap on the stone wall twice, and he landed like a bird coming down to roost. Set the baskets down in the pile like they were paper.

“Fuck,” Sendai said, blinking.

Liu gestured. “You see? This sort of menial task is... meaningless. It is a worthy challenge only to peasants. A waste of time.”

Sendai looked up at the baskets stacked in the cart. Grimaced, climbing up, and began to drag another out. “So why are you even here?”

Liu took the basket from his hands and conveyed it with graceful ease to the pile. He walked smoothly and easily, a refined stance, clasping the basket by its woven handles at some distance from his body – as though ensuring his green outer sect robes were not dirtied. “And that question, Sendai, is another one I have been hounded with by the other neophytes.”

“Well, let’s skip that if you don’t wanna talk about it.” Sendai dragged another pair of baskets to the edge of the cart, grimacing. Easier just dragging them. “What you want to talk about, to pass the time with this meaningless task?”

“The weather is very beautiful. It is a pity we were not here a few weeks ago – we would have seen the peach blossoms in bloom.” Liu took the baskets off the back of the cart once more.

“Yeah?” Sendai wiped the sweat off his face with the sleeve of his sect uniform. “They do, like. Blossom festivals and stuff here? Tex – sorry, I mean. Master Lio said the villagers like theatre and betting on tournaments and stuff. That’s festival entertainment, right?”

“Oh, certainly. Many festivals,” Liu said, returning to the back of the cart and looking up at Sendai. “Market festivals are especially common. Each region has its own calendar.”

“Gotta. Check.” Sendai strained with the next two baskets. “That out. Once I get. Paid. Damn.” He wheezed, pushing them up to the cart’s edge. “I’m helping, right?”

Liu quirked a smile. “Certainly.” He picked up the peach baskets with fluid ease. “Would you take a piece of advice in return for the advice you gave me?” Liu tilted his head slightly.

“Happily.” Sendai doubled over with his hands on his knees.

Liu tossed the peach baskets one after the other, almost carelessly. They thudded down into place, near-perfectly, after flying through the air for at least twenty feet. He bent over the stone wall to pick up his flower again, and rolling it between his fingers he said, “Be cautious about who you choose to try and cultivate a friendship with. You know nothing about me.”

Sendai straightened up and shrugged. “Ain’t gonna find out if I don’t talk to you, am I?”

“True enough.” Liu spun the flower, sending it helicoptering up, only to descend back into the grass on the far side of the stone wall. “Now then. If you can get the baskets to this end of the cart, I’ll take them the rest of the way. That seems equitable.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Sure.” Sendai nodded. “They got good festivals back wherever you’re from? The middle kingdoms or whatever?”

Liu told him about festivals with giant processional floats and how some festivals lined up with their real-world equivalents and others were just in the world of the Eight Kingdoms. Liu didn’t say a thing about where he was from, or where he used to be based out of.

That? And that line about being cautious? It was like Liu was waving a giant glowing sign pointing at curiosity-killed-the-cat style mysteries.

Sendai asked Tex about Liu later on, while accompanying him to the nearest town on a shopping trip.

“So you know anything about that Liu guy?”

Tex paused in front of the open arch gateway across the road into the town of Hualin and squinted back at Sendai. “Why you asking?”

“You know why. Guy’s like a whale in a goldfish pond.”

Tex considered that. “Sect business,” he said, after a moment’s thinking. “And I’m telling you, officially, let it go for now. You’ll hear all about it eventually.”

“Mmh. So how much of your shopping am I carrying for you today?”

Tex smirked, wrinkled face far too animated for what had to be an eighty year old avatar. “Oh, you ain’t carrying shopping. Don’t you know what these are?” he asked, holding up his hand and clacking his jade rings together with a wriggle of the fingers.

“Your old man bling.”

Like magic, Tex wriggled his fingers and a greenish flash appeared, like fire burning an invisible object, but instead of leaving ashes behind it left a scroll made of bamboo slats in his hand.

“Wait, this game doesn’t have a convenience inventory.” Sendai pointed at Tex’s hand. “I tried that.”

Tex gestured, and the scroll vanished. He tapped the ring on his pinky finger. “Storage rings. Very useful, very nice, very expensive. You won’t be using one until you can manipulate qi.”

“And when will that be?”

Tex gestured towards the front of a large alchemy shop. “Can you afford lotions and potions?”

“Not until I get my stipend at the end of the week.”

“Then you’re going to have to work like a dog to get to fifth rank neophyte, at which point the sect gives you lessons.”

“Can’t you give me lessons, wise mentor?”

Tex grinned fiercely, before leading Sendai further through the town. “That was the complete teachings of the Master Lio method, Senny. Buy yourself the right qi cultivation pills.”

“Very helpful. Got any work you’ll pay me more than the sect stipend for?”

“Not yet. First I’m buying you some equipment, which is what this shopping trip is for.”

Sendai tried shoving his hands in his pockets, but he didn’t have any in his trousers. He resorted to sullenly hooking his thumbs over his belt. “You don’t have to spend money on me, Tex.”

Tex gestured airily, leading him down an alley. “It’s a gift.”

“I’ll pay you back.”

“It’s fine. Call it repaying old debts.” Tex waved a hand dismissively, leading Sendai into one store after another.

Sendai didn’t like Tex paying his way, but he was thankful to receive a pair of shoes that weren’t made of paper, and get hanging talismans for his belt – one of which, a little stone bead wrapped in string, gave him instant translations of the local writing system when he focussed on Chinese Hanzi. Not all of them – apparently Tex had just bought him fluency in the local script.

All that was fair enough – like Tex said, it’d let him send Sendai on errands without worrying about whether or not Sendai could read street signs. That’s why it was okay for Tex to buy him a personal signature seal, with the calligraphy for the city of Sendai and the roman letters superimposed over each other.

But a sword? Like, a real good sword?

“I can’t, man. This is too good. The sect has an armoury, right?” Sendai grimaced at the long, narrow blade Tex had pushed into his hands – a jian. And this one was both functional and beautiful, with a rosewood scabbard. “I don’t even know how to use one of these.”

“Can’t learn if you don’t have one,” Tex pointed out.

“I have that engraved Neophyte one.”

The old man laughed. “Those things break if you swing them too hard.”

“How much is it?” Sendai asked, looking to the shop keeper – who was a real player, albeit one with the spaced-out expression of someone mining while conscious, and who kept vacantly looking at a picture frame which must have held a private system window for watching flix on.

“Don’t tell him,” Tex insisted. “Don’t worry about it, Senny boy. It ain’t half as much as I won betting on you in the rust pits.”

“In a game which is offline.”

“I got out early. Take the sword.”

Sendai pulled it from its scabbard again, admiring the geometrically perfect line of the blade’s spine. “You sure?”

Tex smiled. “Absolutely.”

“Well. Thanks, Tex.” He sheathed the sword with a click.

Thirty minutes later, the sword was shattered.

Sendai and Tex had just been walking through the market, and fucking Vincent Churuba showed up sticking out like a sore thumb in the midst of the crowd. Tall, dressed in the red and black leather of the Sargasso Pirates in an ancient china vibe, lacking the buckles and spikes they had in BlackStar. His dark skin contrasted heavily against a shock of eyeburn-yellow hair.

He’d noticed Sendai staring. Because of course he had. And then he pushed through the crowd to reach them, grinning mockingly. “Why if it ain’t the number one Rustbeater. Duel me.”

“Sure. Blood, teeth, or down?” Sendai demanded, accepting the challenge, because it was fucking Vincent Churuba.

“Duels don’t work like that here,” Tex said, bringing his hands together and shaking his sleeves over them. “You sure you want to do this?” He looked grim.

“I said I would.” Besides, Churuba had been kicked out of BlackStar Galaxy same day as Sendai, right? They had to be close equals.

Sendai turned back to fucking Vincent Churuba. “How do they duel here?”

“Down or out. No choices.” Churuba slapped his mace into his palm – almost the same melee weapon he’d had in BlackStar Galaxy. Around here, though, there weren’t many windshields to smash. “But you can yield whenever you want.”

They went to the lei tai in the middle of a courtyard just off the town square. The lei tai was just a raised stone platform for fighting on, perfectly square.

They stepped up, and that was the first time Sendai felt any discomfort at all with the situation. Fights were for pits – low down, with only your opponent in your eyeline. Up on the lei tai platform, Sendai could see how many people had gathered to watch.

Villagers were tuning in, losing their glassy miner’s gaze. A bookie was going through the crowd, angling for bets, but instead of laying a bet Tex just shook his head and let the bookie move on. That was the second thing that made things feel wrong.

“So how do we start?” Sendai drew his new sword, weighed it in his hand. It wasn’t a chainstick, but it was about the right length.

“Death waivers.” Fucking Vincent Churuba grinned, while the crowd laid bets on him.

A town official showed up, with ink and paper. Asked them their names, wrote them in calligraphy which Sendai could actually read, with the translator charm. It was a fill in the blank form, despite looking so ornate.

Sendai leaned out for a quick word with Tex. “How bad’s dying in Eight Kingdoms?”

“Mitigatable corpse run. Some cultivation issues but nothing you have to worry about. He can’t steal your shit in town.” Tex looked grim.

“Right.”

The first time Sendai used his personal seal was to sign the death waiver. The town official showed it to the crowd and read out the full text, and when he was done they were fighting.

If it was to blood? Sendai won in the first heatbeat, whipping his sword out at Churuba’s stupid face. Churuba blocked, but badly, caught a gash down the back of his arm.

Teeth, teeth would be harder with a sword, but in theory Sendai could break out some of Churuba’s teeth with the pommel of his sword and that’d count.

But just as Sendai got into a rhythm of whipping out the slender blade like a much heavier chainstick, pushing Churuba out towards the edge of the lei tai platform, Churuba blocked with the mace.

Metal rang with almost poetic beauty, Sendai spun once, twisting around, flashing out the blade low at Churuba’s shins – once in the wake of a smashing spree that left Sendai’s old motorbike a pile of scrap, in revenge Sendai had taken off Churuba’s legs at the knees, left his boots just standing there.

Churuba apparently remembered it too. He backed off and swiped the mace down simultaneously, slamming it into the flat of Sendai’s sword.

For an instant it looked like Sendai was going to be able to yank the blade free before it hit the ground, the blade flexing and bouncing like a spring, but the vibrations running down the blade’s length came to a halt as the mace pinned it to the ground, and fucking Vincent Churuba grinned.

“Sucker.”

The head of the mace flared with a red triangle and pulsed. It struck outward in a spheroid burst of invisible force six inches across, throwing up dust with a bassy roar, a wave of heat, a jolt, and the final impact shattered Sendai’s sword.

Staring in disbelief at splintered metal gave Churuba the time he needed to swipe the mace up under Sendai’s jaw and send him flying. The last thing Sendai saw before hitting the ground was one of his teeth flying through the air like a comet with a bloody tail.

The duel didn’t go to the death, but getting up and swapping a bow with Churuba was far more painful than a broken jaw.

Churuba leaned in, while the crowd cheered and jeered, and hissed, “So now that I’m the Rustbeater, I guess I get to move in with those girls of yours, don’t I?”

The only reason Sendai didn’t say anything was that his jaw was broken. The only reason he didn’t pick up the shattered remains of his sword and stab Churuba was that Tex pulled him away.

After being taken to a quiet tavern and given an improbably fantastic bone healing herb to suck on from one of Tex’s rings, Sendai’s jaw stopped flapping around long enough for him to say, “I nearly fucking had him. If I’d just been fast enough to get my sword free...”

“But you weren’t.” Tex glanced out the front of the establishment, searching the passers-by. “Shit happens. Don’t worry about it. I’ll buy you another sword.”

Sendai shook his head sullenly. “Don’t. I’ll get something out of the sect armoury. But where the hell did he get a damn magic mace?”

“That was just fire qi inscribed. It ain’t that good,” Tex said.

“Qi? What the hell is he doing with qi after two, three days here?” Sendai snarled. “He was pissing on one of the war memorials hours before shutdown.”

“Like I said, Senny boy. Lotions and potions.” Tex stroked his long moustache. “And the Sargasso Pirates ain’t the only ex-Galaxy kids to show up with expensive gear in the last few days.”

Sendai brought out the broken sword. The remaining length might make a cool dagger or something, but still, it stung.

If he wanted to buy a new sword, he’d have to mine. And there was a lot of shit he needed if he wanted to catch up with Churuba. Rounding up more money was essential, but if he’d been faster... Maybe just three fucking percent faster, the sword wouldn’t have been trapped.

“Tex?”

“Yeah?”

“I got two questions.”

“Shoot,” the old man said, leaning an elbow on their table.

“Firstly, if you can’t train me to fight Eight Kingdoms style, who can?” Sendai tongued at the gap in his teeth. “And secondly, what kinda herb do I gotta find to grow back a tooth?”