I stared into the pond.
The carp stared back.
Am I going to regret this, Mr. Fish?
Despite my best attempts, the koi was unable to read my thoughts. Instead, it eyed me up and down, doing its best to determine whether I would fit inside its mouth. Considering it was approximately twice my size, it might honestly have a fair chance. I sighed, and took a few steps away from the pond’s edge, removing the temptation. The fish gave me one last look before swimming off deeper into the pond that surrounded the garden I was in.
In the aftermath of the announcement, we’d quickly hustled off to another one of the many private courtyards that seemed to fill the Inner Sect. Unlike the well-used arenas of the Outer Sect, where half the sand’s weight was the blood of disciples, this small slice of peace was the sort of place where I would happily spend hours at a time. The artificial island that sat within the pond was a soft meadow, with delicate blades of grass that yearned for one to rest their head upon and a quiet that was almost foreign to my ears now. Here within the boundary of the Compound, the Tzangtze’s roar had been tamed into gentle streams that filled the calm pond, perhaps the first time in years I’d seen still water that wasn’t in a mug or a dirty puddle.
It seemed absurd that a delicate park like this was only used as a site for duels. The koi fish especially were exactly the sort of worthless luxury that I could imagine nobles wasting their money on. Then again, the way they all seemed to stare at me hungrily told me that they might well serve the same role of the arena attendants who dragged the bodies of the losers away from the ring. Unfortunately for them, however, I wasn’t here to get eaten by some glorified magical carp; I was here to get my ass beaten by an Inner Disciple, hopefully badly enough that I would find myself in front of Death again.
I snuck a glance at the Young Master, who was still in the same spot on the other end of the green. He seemed to be as lost in thought as I was, considering a small bed of flowers in front of him as his face twisted in time with whatever internal struggle he was having. Of course, whatever unpleasantness he was considering still did nothing to detract from his noble features, so clearly in proportion to each other and unburnt by seasons upon seasons of farming. I had to stop myself from reaching for my own face in response, to trace over skin that had already seen too much sun, to tweak a nose with an unfortunate bump in the middle, to wipe at murky eyes I’d only seen for the first time when I’d found a mirror in one corner of the Outer Sect.
It was funny how one’s ego could respond to the strangest things. The shrivelled and tattered remnants of my own had long since abandoned any hope of being a better cultivator, but was still stirred to bitterness by someone being more attractive than me. As if a peasant even had a chance against what must have been years of directed cultivation, decades of careful grooming, and centuries of good breeding.
It was what had made the choice for me in the end. Betting on that farm girl to show up here like she did last time was a fool’s hope at best, but assuming that I’d ever have a place here was an outright delusion. There was no shortage of us commoners in the Outer Sect, who had through potential, determination, and a good amount of luck had proven ourselves to the recruiters that had passed by our village. But how many of us had ever actually ended up in the Inner Sect? Senior Librarian Yun had managed, but from what he had mentioned (and what he’d very carefully not said a word about) it took much more than simply being the most talented to earn the right to wear the blues.
That didn’t mean I wouldn’t try to enjoy the amenities while I was here though. I laid down on the grass, enjoying my last moments in the peace and quiet of the garden. The lack of spectators shouting out the odds and howling for my blood really brought the place together. It appeared that ritualistic bloodsports were less ad-hoc here, and generally weren’t open to an audience unless both parties agreed to it, which the Young Master had vigorously declined. I was hardly about to complain.
And with that thought, the very last component of our duel arrived with a boom. The silence of the garden was instantly annihilated as the very centre of the garden disappeared in a massive plume of dirt, the ground underneath us shaking at the impact. I outright left the ground for a few moments, limbs flailing as I tried to catch myself before I crashed back down again. Even the Young Master didn’t fare that much better, the shockwave sending him stumbling to catch himself before he fell.
And as grass and flowers fell back to the ground, the Inner Sect Elder was revealed. Slowly standing up from a low crouch, the mountain of a man stretched out his arms to his side, taking in a deep breath. The blue he wore barely felt appropriate, merely a token suggestion of a robe tight upon his frame that did nothing to cover his broad arms and trunk-like legs. His skin was as dark as ebony, littered with pale scars that spoke of a life of pain, of challenge, of victory.
It seemed I was mistaken. You don’t have to be some noble raised on the teat of the Seven Falls Sect’s bosom to be granted the blues. But what else could you expect from an Inner Sect Elder? This wasn’t some ancient soul at the Third Step who had been put in charge of the Outer Sect for their undying loyalty.
This was someone you gave the robes for fear of what they would do to you otherwise.
Even as the Elder continued to straighten, arms now reaching up towards the sky, I prepared to run. It was so obviously clear I’d overstepped that it wasn’t even funny. Had I somehow managed to meet her manager? Was there even going to be a tiniest fragment of me remaining to even meet Death?
“I-” The Elder heaved in a breath, staring down at the both of us with a stone-like expression, “am Inner Sect Elder Umzuli of the Spearpoint Clan of the Southwest Continent! And I…” The Elder brought one hand to his face, slowly dragging it down as his expression twisted into an unknowable, unfathomable hurricane- “...am so very pleased!”
I faltered slightly.
Umzuli’s arms snapped out with a whip crack, pointing at the both of us as he grinned so wide as to eat the Demon Wall of the North in a single bite. “Oh, how many years has it been since I’ve seen such a marvelous pairing? An Outer Sect Disciple, fire in their eyes and powerful cultivation in their blood as they reach up to challenge one above their station! And an Inner Sect Disciple, firm in his position and ready to defend it to the last! I’m so very glad you called for an Honourable Judge to witness this fight!”
The Young Master bowed towards the Elder as the gigantic man finished his speech. ‘Thank you, Elder Umzuli. I apologise that this was on such short notice-”
“Bah!” Umzuli, waved away the apology with a smile. “It was hardly any trouble! Cultivation is important, but nowhere near as important as seeing your juniors succeed! Speaking of, Gareth, I’m impressed by your own level of growth! I’m especially glad you’ve already absorbed the lesson of helping others, without even needing me to say anything!”
“...Indeed,” the noble intoned, glancing at me wordlessly.
Should I say something? I bowed in Umzuli’s direction, following the Young Master’s example. “You have my thanks as well, Elder, for whatever they’re worth from this lowly disciple.”
“Truly, no thanks are needed!” The Elder chuckled, thumping a fist the size of my head against his chest. “I’m sure you feel quite nervous being here, but with your Senior’s invite you belong just as much as any other.”
“...Indeed,” I laughed nervously, returning the Young Master’s look.
“Well, if you’re both ready then!” The Elder clapped his hands together loudly enough to cause me to flinch- “How about on the count of three, eh?”
I choked as my mind tripped over itself. Too fast! What sort of Honourable Judge was this? Even if I wanted to die, I at least wanted to know when it happened! Three seconds of run-up time to one’s funeral was too short-
“Just a moment, Elder Umzuli!” The Young Master interrupted, stepping towards me with both of his hands raised. “As this is an exchange of pointers, I just wanted to converse with my Junior Brother here about what we wanted to work on, respectively!”
“This…is only to exchange pointers?” The Elder faltered. “But- it had been described to me as some grave insult, that it was a matter of Life and Death.” It was almost as if the Elder was deflating before my eyes, so demoralising was the news. As if he’d absolutely been expecting us to immediately dive into a blood match. Which, to be fair-
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“We’ll both be trying our best, of course,” the noble assured the giant, “it’s just that this is only our second spar, so we’re not familiar with each other’s repertoires. I figured we should quickly settle on what techniques we could use to be a most impressive display of our respective skills.”
Umzuli hummed, drumming his massive fingers upon his forearm. “I see. A fiery display, a promise of the fight to come. That is acceptable. Gareth, Junior Brother, I’m looking forward to your very best!”
Even as the Elder stepped to the side of the garden to give us privacy, the Young Master had already pulled me in the opposite direction, nearly pulling my arm out of its joint as he spun me around and seized me by both shoulders to stare me in the eyes-
“What, exactly,” the Young Master emphasised quietly, “do you think you’re doing?”
Eh?
“Is this a matter of a bet?” the Young Master whispered, searching my eyes for any semblance of sense. “Have your so-called friends convinced you to fight an Inner Disciple for some forsaken reason? Or is this some matter of proving yourself? Are you utterly unaware as to the level of difference between our respective cultivation levels, even after nearly dying?”
It was none of those things. I had no friends, I had no need to prove myself, and I was painfully aware of the difference in our cultivation.
And so I said nothing as the Young master continued, the words pouring out faster and faster as whatever frustration he’d been harbouring came to the surface. “Whatever your reason is, there is absolutely nothing to gain from this other than me suppressing your cultivation, at the very least. The more likely result is that, once more, you end up dead on the ground and I am left in the uncomfortable position of having killed one of my juniors. Even worse, it’s the same junior who I’ve already almost killed. Just-”
I stayed quiet as the Young Master removed a hand from my shoulder, rubbing at his face with a sigh, before he looked back up at me, eyes far more weary now. “You feel angry at me. Rightfully. I’m sure I could’ve avoided this entire situation in the first place, no matter Mei’s wishes, but I didn’t. What you want, it’s a chance at revenge, right? I understand that, I’ve been in the exact same place as you. But whatever it is you’re hoping to get out of this, you’re not going to get it!”
Exact same place? Was this a joke? This fair-faced noble who hadn’t ever done a day of work in his life, who had likely been fed cultivation aids from the day he could walk, thought that we shared a single commonality? It was enough to make me laugh, if it didn’t make me so immeasurably furious.
“Enough,” I hissed. “Whatever your justifications, I didn’t come here to hear them. I came here for a fight, and I’m not leaving until I get one.”
“You-” The Young Master took a step back, a curious expression falling across his face-
“So how goes the planning?” Umzuli whispered next to both of us.
The Young Master did not jump. My feet may have left the ground for a small moment, but I was able to recover quickly enough, spinning to face the giant who had, somehow, managed to sneak up on the both of us. “Ah, Elder! We were just about done, I think.” I sent a glance the Young Master’s way.
The Young Master still had that strange look upon his face. “I think so as well. Very well, Junior Brother; let’s see if what you’ve learnt can make the difference.”
What I’ve learnt? I didn’t have time to consider the words before Umzuli had vanished once more, reappearing on one of the balconies of the buildings that surrounded the courtyard. He looked down on us with a grin, arms crossed over his barrel chest. “Then, in that case!” The Elder took a deep breath, and this voice boomed out over the island. “This is a supervised exchange of pointers! To the West, we have an Outer Disciple, who has struggled and fought so hard but who still yet yearns for purpose! To the East, we have an Inner Disciple, whose power is great but knows it must be all the greater for the challenges ahead! May you both bring forth your whole might, speak clearly in your hearts, and walk away enlightened! Are you ready?”
Looking back down from the balcony, I saw that the Young Master had already moved to the opposite side of the garden. I hurried to my own spot, trying my best to ignore the teeming masses of fish that had begun to accumulate on my side of the arena. Taking a breath, I slowly settled into position, feet spread and knees bent, hands curled into fists and hovering up in front of my face.
In response, the Young Master slowly lifted his hands from his sides, and raised them in a mirror of my stance. “We are ready, Elder Umzuli.”
“Begin.”
The courtyard was still. The fish behind me had ceased their thrashing, ready for the fight to come. Whatever light breeze had once caressed my face had disappeared, leaving behind dead air. Not even the grass beneath my feet dared to waver at this moment.
The Young Master didn’t move. “I think,” he said, eyes meeting mine, “that it would only be fair to allow you the first strike.”
I ground my teeth and clenched my fists harder. How on earth have I found the one cultivator in this world that refuses to murder another in cold blood? But my opponent’s refusal to make the first move left me in an uncomfortable position. I would, somehow, need to press him hard enough to receive a death blow. A challenge made all the harder by how far beyond me the Young Master was.
The Steps of cultivation were long and arduous, and both of us were fairly early on our path in the grand scheme of things. We had both crossed the First Step, where a would-be cultivator strengthened their body through focused exercise and careful application of reagents; in doing so, one increased their body’s ability to naturally create qi, a power that emerged forth from the blend of a cultivator’s physical, spiritual, and mental might. Once that qi had accumulated to a certain point, its user would break through to the Second Step, and gain a conscious control over that innate power.
But it took much more than determination and some minor pills to cross the Second Step. Conscious control did not mean proficiency; it took years of practice to develop a fine sense for directing one’s very life force, to efficiently use every drop without waste. Conversely, one could never grow their pool of qi without using it to the point of exhaustion. As such, the most efficient method of training was to learn complicated new techniques, advancing the ability to carefully weave qi together while emptying one’s reserves in the process. Then, a cultivator could simply consume a Replenishment Pill to refill their pool and continue where they left off.
If they didn’t have the yuan for a Replenishment Pill? Then they’d spend the next week of their life curled into a ball wishing for the pain to end as they slowly recovered from qi exhaustion.
And so I sat at the very beginning of the Second Step, where I had remained pitifully stagnant for the past two and a half years; in comparison, the Young Master was at the apex of the same step, a veritable bonfire of power. Where I could just about coax my qi into a technique and exhaust myself in the process, I had no doubt that the Disciple across from me could wield elemental blasts and enhanced martial arts without breaking a sweat.
And yet… I felt a smile slowly creep across my own face. …Exhaustion hardly matters to me right now, does it?
For the first time in four months since my last attempt at training, I willed my qi to move. For the first time ever I didn’t even try to hold back the flow, bright lines of fire spearing through my muscles and veins as I unleashed every last drop of my life-force into the Seven Falls Sect’s Stance. Without the practice to carefully adjust the output, to carefully manipulate and weave the threads of energy to match my body, the generic technique given to every Second Step cultivator at the Falls would simply drain my reserves in a single second. It was, after all, only intended for practice, for a Disciple to rein in and adapt to their own circumstances. The unoptimised technique was an ungodly, weighty thing, like the waterfalls themselves that crashed down the Burial Fault. But for that single second as I burst across the courtyard, feeling my ribs creak and tendons snap, I stood level with the Young Master.
His brow furrowed as I approached. His feet shifted slightly, back foot digging into the grass. His fists relaxed, fingers straightening out.
Just behind him, a farm girl with a scythe watched the both of us with wide eyes.
And my technique was utterly overshadowed as the Young Master used his own qi, his right arm whipping out in a knife-hand strike towards my neck, making contact with a swift crack. My body sailed past his, my technique unravelling even as my body collapsed in a boneless pile at the farm girl’s feet.
We’ve got to stop meeting like this, I thought with a smile. So, how have you been?
I died before she had a chance to respond.
—
This time, I did not wake up to the sixthbell, or even the Hourbell. Instead, I woke to incredible pain, my emptied reserves crying out in exhaustion even as my broken neck sent awful spikes of pain echoing throughout my body. My first conscious breath was a stuttering thing, ending with a coughing fit that only made every last part of me feel worse.
And yet it still felt so far away, compared to knowing I’d failed once again. “Damn it,” I muttered, blearily opening my eyes.
And then throwing them wide open as agony surged through my spine once more, as the blunt rib of a scythe pressed itself in against my throat.
Standing above me, only barely illuminated, stood a farm girl. Her hair was still in a loose pony-tail, but it seemed like a few more strands had managed to escape since the last time I’d seen her. It gave her a slightly frazzled appearance, only reinforced by her disbelieving eyes and slightly open mouth.
“What,” the girl began, leaning in slightly over the scythe, “the fuck, are you doing?”