Light! He needed light. If he had light, he could… he needed light!
An idea came to him then. A ridiculous idea, but it wasn’t as if he were especially spoiled for choice, when it came to jury-rigged solutions.
With a mental prompting he brought up his status menu. A glowing vertical line was drawn in the air, which then expanded into a rectangle.
He nearly laughed out loud.
Though whether in relief or disbelief he couldn’t immediately tell. His surroundings were now lit by a faint glow that only he could see.
And… yep. It was a pit alright.
He wasn’t immediately presented with a pile of bones, or a decayed corpse, or really, anything out of the ordinary. It really was just a hole.
Apparently, this place didn’t see a lot of use. Considering how long it had taken to get here, Jun could definitely understand why. You would have to be either incredibly cruel or extremely petty to actually go to the trouble of imprisoning someone down here.
And somehow, Jun had managed to royally piss off the very man who excelled at both. Wonderful.
Item number two on the ever-expanding agenda summarily taken care of, he now turned to item number three.
“Ivory, are you okay?”
The pause she gave before responding was so pronounced that he actually began to fear for the worst. Had he failed to fully protect her as the heavy blows rained down? Let an errant boot among dozens slip past his guard, and all the while with him none the wiser?
When, at last, she finally did respond, her terse words gave him little comfort.
“I’m fine.”
“Oh, good,” he tried to add a touch of levity to his tone. “I was beginning to worry something bad had happened. You know, apart from the glaringly obvious. The beatings, the humiliations, and, just, the overall lack of a very good time.”
“You needn’t have bothered.”
Jun frowned. As of yet, she hadn’t seen fit to extricate herself from his jacket. Something she hadn’t failed to do on any other occasion they’d found themselves alone together.
“Nonsense. Of course I-”
“No! No, you really need not. If anything I’m the one that’s supposed to worry in this situation, while you’re the one that should be sick and tired of being worried after. After all,” she gave a mirthless chuckle. “What need have I for your concern when all I’d really done was sit by and watch? So you can just take this as me performing my due diligence, sit right where you are, and move not another inch until you start to feel better!”
At first, Jun was taken aback. And then, the warm beginnings of mirth began to bubble their way up from his chest.
He didn’t act on it of course.
Both because it would’ve hurt like hell, and because he really didn’t want to distress the clearly shaken up spirit beast any more than he already had. Her obvious concern for him was comforting enough. It helped push back the black tendrils of hopelessness which were, even now, probing at the edges of his already fraying psyche—doing their best to unravel him altogether, and drag the shorn pieces beneath crashing waves of despair.
He shook himself, taking comfort in the sharp stab of agony that caused. The pain brought clarity. It gave him something to focus on.
It also had the added benefit of finally dislodging Ivory from his jacket, if not from her anxious sulk altogether. Bursting out from his front collar with the speed and ferocity of a kicked hornet’s nest, Ivory rounded on him—her face a thundercloud.
“I thought I told you there would be none of that!”
And again, it was all that he could do to keep a straight face. He could only hope and pray his thoughts weren’t leaking through. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand her agitation, it was just that seeing her posed like that—arms akimbo and half bent at the waist, like a mother scolding her misbehaving child—it was just too much.
“Sorry! Sorry, just a reflex. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
Ivory, for her part, found his excuse barely worthy of a response.
Instead, with a disdainful “hmph!” she turned away with arms crossed and tentacles angrily thrashing. Clearly having dismissed him from her mind entirely, he tried not to notice all the backwards glances she shot his way, as if checking to make sure he was still there.
Sitting with his back against the wall, Jun pondered idly over his many mistakes. He’d fucked up. He was finished.
It was basically undeniable at this point.
The only thing he didn’t understand was how it had all happened so fast? He’d been on the top of the world—meeting with princes and selling to kings—and now…?
Now he supposed he’d finally run into an obstacle he couldn’t bribe. One which he hadn’t even seen coming. He had always known that the strong generally take what they want and damn the consequences. He’d heard the horror stories. He’d just never thought it’d happen to him.
His father had been strong.
In many respects, his father had been a genius—in cultivation, in martial arts, in tactical thinking. A once in ten generations talent, if the rumors were to be believed. And from all that Jun had learned of the man, they almost always were.
He did inconceivable things, time and time again.
And—as far as Jun could make out from the odd rumor or story—only ever because he felt like it at the time. He’d had talent and skill enough to be ranked among the greatest young cultivators of his generation.
And what had he done with all that boundless potential?
He’d joined up with a gang of outlaws and bandits who’d, as it so happened, been in the process of robbing him blind.
Then, over the course of a mere two years, went on to elevate said group of thugs and scoundrels until they rivaled some of the largest crime syndicates this side of the empire.
Then, when there was a falling out among the syndicate’s leadership and his father was betrayed, he’d simply taken his leave—nearly razing the entire organization to the ground in the process—never to be heard from again.
Jun resented his father.
Not just because of what he’d done, but because he’d had the wherewithal to do exactly as he pleased. True agency wasn’t something he had a lot of experience with after all. A luxury in many ways, he couldn’t help but resent anyone who managed to horde the privilege. Especially since he’d personally been striving for true agency since he was only nine years old.
Not through strength, true.
The kind of strength that made others, even loved ones, seem insignificant. The kind of strength that made a father not think twice about abandoning his family, but instead through influence.
Through money and connections.
After all, he too wanted to be able to do what he wanted, when he wanted, and screw the consequences. He’d just never wanted it at the expense of his own soul.
Completely alone, in these unforgiving depths however, he found himself unable to ignore his own faulty reasoning.
The many errors that’d subtly woven their way into his thinking—clamoring for his attention now that he was unable to postpone them. Bludgeoning him senseless with each unwelcome bout of clarity. And despite all attempts at subliminal subterfuge, a consensus, it would seem, had already been reached. For so long willful ignorance had been his shield against unfortunate truths.
Lies. So many lies.
That he could have one without the other, for instance. Power without strength. Influence without instilling an implicit fear of reprisals. He would rather fill his time with problems he felt well equipped to handle, than even look the main issue full on in the face.
By amassing a total net value of 100,000,000 spirit coins before reaching your cultures majority year, you have been awarded the title [Fledgeling Magnate].
|Fledgeling Magnate|
Any items below the rare rarity are now 25% off within the System Approved general store.
Easier to wash his hands of the whole mess entirely—pretend as if the disparity didn’t even exist—than walk blithely down that brutal road and discover, far too late, that he no longer recognized the person he saw in the mirror.
Or even worse, find the resemblance all but uncanny, but the face which peered back not entirely his own.
That of his father’s, his family’s, cultivators in general. A petty, vain, vindictive face that, right now, he still had the wherewithal to disdain. An inarticulate fear which didn’t change the truth of things much. That he was weak in a world where weakness is readily exploited, and no amount of coin enough of a deterrent it would seem. Because he was weak. Made helpless by stubborn complacency.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Because others were strong where he was not.
A familiar notification chimed in his mind, disrupting his dark thoughts. Jun glanced up just as the blue screen blipped into existence, illuminating his swollen and blackened face.
*Ding!*
Penelope C. Dumont wishes to purchase your
TRIENNIAL TOURNAMENT PASS for 800,000 SP.
Do you wish to sell?
YES/NO
Jun stared at the notification uncomprehendingly for several long seconds. Then, in a rush, the events immediately preceding his arrest came back to him all at once.
The envoy. The tournament. How could he have forgotten?
He still wasn’t sure what the matriarch had been thinking. Giving him something so extraordinarily valuable. It just seemed like such a waste on her part.
He’d heard of the king's tournament of course. Really, who hadn’t? That placing well there was often the first step many now renowned cultivators took on their path. A springboard onto bigger and better things, it served as a way for one to extricate themselves from the metaphorical mire that was the frontier. Because, though rich in raw resources, the frontier was not a shining beacon of cultivation.
Far from it in fact.
Even the most out of touch knew that the three central capitals— more akin to isolated principalities; individualized city-states with their own rule and law—were where the real talents congregated.
In that way, the ticket represented more than merely the chance to snag some participation prizes and garner a reputation. And instead represented the potential prosperity of an entire future lineage.
Taking all of that into consideration, the amount he was being offered was so low as to be insulting. And at any other time, he likely would have dismissed it out of hand.
But now…?
He needed the money desperately... He needed to be tens of millions richer in the next two weeks, and if he didn’t manage that…? Well, he didn’t even want to think about what would happen. Was it worth it then? Taking this raw deal, if it meant he was that much closer to his goal?
Mentally he hovered over the ‘yes’ confirmation for several long seconds, before his rational mind finally reasserted itself.
Because, while yes, he did need to scrounge up that coin, it didn’t mean he had to go about it like an idiot. The fact of the matter was, he did need several million by the end of the next week, and this pathetic bid didn’t even amount to a drop in the bucket.
If he really wanted to do this he’d have to smarten up. He couldn’t afford to be careless at a time like this. If he truly intended to stick to this implausible course, he couldn’t just blindly continue as he was. He couldn’t even continue as he had been.
Not really.
Not without fundamentally shifting the way he went about things.
Looking at the notification with fresh eyes, Jun firmly selected “no.” A second notification appeared asking him if he was sure of his decision. Mentally affirming his choice, Jun rested back against the craggy rock wall as the notifications blinked out of existence.
It was strange.
He’d always thought he’d feel some sort of trepidation or resignation at the decision, were he ever brought so low as to turn to this avenue as a last resort. Oddly enough though, he felt nothing of the sort. Mostly, he just felt… relieved?
As if a weight that’d been pressing down on him all his life had suddenly lifted.
At the end of the day, was he absolutely certain he wouldn’t wind up just as messed up as the rest of them? No. No, of course he wasn’t. And yet, at the risk of death—not only his own, but quite possibly that of his mother's as well—was he still willing to try? Despite his uncertainties?
Jun pulled up his system screens and focused on one description in particular.
|Concept of Cutting| (1st Aspect)
Aspect of Razor’s Edge
With a thought, wispy tendrils of crimson smoke rose lazily from an outstretched finger.
Immediately, he felt a calm resolve drape over him, and even his aches and pains seemed to lessen. The flow was constant, bleeding out of him as if from a hidden spigot so long as he maintained pressure on the odd trigger in his head. It was instinctual. Borne of a sixth sense he had a tough time putting words to.
He simply knew it in a way that seemed as natural to him as breathing. In the same way he could immediately tell just this small expenditure was a constant mental drain. And, likewise, that all it’d take to mold this crimson aura was a minor working of his will—further pulling on the inner reserves of his focus.
An idea was slowly starting to take shape in his mind—mapping out a path through unknown territory. A path that might prove just the thing to get him through this disaster.
It’s a widely spectated event. Lots of betting to be had, I’m sure. I wonder what the odds would be on an untrained nobody taking first place? But-! Wait, no, this is crazy! Right?! I mean, I must have hit my head or something. And yet… if it works… I could make back all I’d lost and more…
In order for his plans to prosper, however, he’d need ample fertilizer.
First and foremost, he needed information. One of the consequences of skating by on the periphery of cultivation all of his life, was that his information on the topic was, surprise surprise, peripheral. He needed to know the ins and outs of cultivation—for at least the first few stages—if he were to have any chance of success.
With access to the system marketplace, he believed he could purchase everything he needed and more. Though, for that to be possible, he first needed funds. Cultivation resources were expensive, and his measly two million spirit coins simply weren’t going to cut it.
Before any of that though, there was something far more pressing on his mind.
Instead of lessening, as he’d hoped it might, the pain wracking his body only increased—the restrictive pressure on his lungs growing as his breathing became short. He was no healer or cleric but even he knew the signs of a punctured lung and, quite possibly, internal bleeding.
And he couldn’t help but feel that, if he waited any longer to do something about it, very soon now he’d be robbed of the option entirely.
Jun brought up the general marketplace, ignoring its abrasively cheery chime.
The general marketplace wasn't so much a physical location as an interconnected hub where similarly titled merchants, landowners, and accountants could convene to trade goods, talk, and make deals. And while the marketplace wasn’t physical in nature, the trade goods most definitely were.
Every time one purchased or sold something through the marketplace, said item or items would then appear or disappear respectively, depending on who was buying and who was selling. In this way, goods were able to be transported over many hundreds, or even thousands of kilometers near instantaneously.
It appeared as most system screens did.
Uncluttered and economic in its overall design, with scrolling text and minimalistic icons that unrolled into drop down menus or informational tooltips. There was an icon for plain old trade that looked like a lumpy sack of coin. An icon for auctions, depicted as a wooden gavel. An icon for forming business contracts, depicted as a floating legal writ, and so on.
There was even an option to buy from the system itself—aptly named the system general store. Due to a number of factors, this particular functionality was usually only reserved for when one was desperate. The stock was limited, and the rates were fixed, allowing for no room to barter or finagle.
One either took what the system offered at the prices it was selling, or else turned to another avenue with a more diverse range of options. It was why most savvy businessmen and women generally avoided the system store unless they were terribly strapped for time, desperate, or in his case, both.
Jun found the spinning coin icon that represented the system general store. After a brief mental request another screen popped up over the first, listing the many unique items the store had on this month’s rotation.
Technique Scrolls
Cultivation Manuals
Cultivation Resources
Unknown Technique Scroll (Common)
1,000,000 SP
Brimstone and Ash Breathing Manual (Epic)—200,000,000 SP
Five Gates Awakening Pill (Rare)—3,000,000 SP
Unknown Technique Scroll (Rare)
15,000,000 SP
Morning Dew Rotation Breathing Manual (Epic)—250,000,000 SP
Greater Fire Attuned Fruit of Enlightenment (Epic)—35,000,000 SP
Lost Technique Scroll
(???)
2,000,000 SP
Still Pond Reflection Breathing Manual (Epic)—300,000,000 SP
Greater Spirit Rejuvenation Elixir (Uncommon)—1,250,000 SP
It took a bit of searching, but Jun eventually found what he’d been looking for.
High Grade Mortal Mending Pill (Common)— 30,000 SP
22,500 SP (-25%)
Essential Revitalization Tonic (Uncommon)— 80,000 SP
60,000 SP (-25%)
He cringed at the price.
It wasn’t much, but every little bit would count in the days to come. The stab of pain that sudden movement elicited got his priorities back in order quick enough.
He purchased the medicine. Holding out his hand preemptively, two golden flashes briefly illuminated the gloom of the pit, before a round pill and a small glass bottle fell into his waiting palm. Without a second's hesitation, he downed the bitter pill and tonic both, then sat back as the medicinal herbs went to work. As the medicine rapidly repaired his body, Jun found the icon for the auction house and opened it.
A new window appeared, showing the many auctions he was still in the running for. It was because of these bids that he felt any confidence in his plan whatsoever. Primarily due to a quirk built into the bidding process.
Essentially, when one made a bid, the amount of coin offered was placed into a special bidding pool, completely isolated from one’s main balance. The money considered, for all intents and purposes, “spent” until the goods were either successfully delivered, or one’s request was denied.
Since there was no real obligation on the seller's behalf to do either with any real haste, it could be weeks, or even months, before one got any form of confirmation either way.
Now obviously, what Jun was most excited for had little to do with the actual purchasing of goods. Because, at any point in time, the option to simply bow out of the race, and in doing so, reclaim what money you’d put up in the first place, remained.
Without an ounce of hesitation Jun promptly canceled every bid he had on offer, then eagerly checked his SP balance for the results.
Spirit Coins: 23,295,000
It wasn’t but a fraction of what he’d need in the long run, but it sure was a decent start. He also had some ideas on how he might multiply things further. Even trapped as he was underneath the world, his enterprising mind couldn’t be constrained overly long. But that would all have to wait, he knew.
Because, before anything else, he needed to renege on a very old vow. Despite a lifetime’s worth of distaste, distance, and no small amount of fear, he’d need to do the one thing he’d repudiated for as long as he could remember.
He’d need to become a proper cultivator.