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Chapter 27 - A Trial of Intentions

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Zhujiao kept his head low as he hurried home, making sure to avoid eye contact with the members of the Red Talons walking the streets. There seemed to be more of them today than yesterday – certainly more than were needed to send a message to him of all people.

Clearly, there was more going on here than just trying to threaten a healer’s apprentice.

None of his business, really – though he hadn’t forgotten that Lao Yi had basically told him he was on his own when it came to sorting out the situation with the Red Talons. Hopefully, he would be able to keep his head down and avoid whatever trouble was brewing, and with a bit of luck, whatever it was would be significant enough to distract them from him.

Of course, living across from Liang might make things a little complicated, but considering he was earning a somewhat decent wage, maybe moving would be possible.

Only half of his attention was on where he was going – the other half of his focus was busy manipulating the tiny trickle of Qi in his dantian. It was the result of almost two hours of working with his new cycling technique, and even though Lao Yi assured him he would get faster as he grew more experienced, it was a paltry amount.

He couldn’t help but compare it to the ocean of power he had felt from the Beast Core. Was the mental path really that much slower?

Admittedly, it did feel… calmer than the Qi he had been using. It somehow reminded him of himself, in that vague way that other people appeared to his Qi senses. Apparently, he feels like cool-blue-autumn-smoke, and it rather heartbreakingly reminded him of his mother.

He realises now that his first impression, so far back that he can barely remember, was mistaken. What he had taken for the heat and crackle of fire was actually just the energetic feeling of the Qi itself.

His actions have had an effect, though, and he knows without a doubt that the smoky sensation of his Qi is from the bonfires and beast core that he used.

He can’t help but wonder how things would have turned out if he had realised earlier that he wasn’t fire-aligned. Would he have ever tried to cultivate using a bonfire, ever been reckless enough to run after the Beast Core?

Would his mother still be alive?

A small part of him can’t help but wonder what his Qi would feel like if he never stopped cultivating the physical path. Would it turn to fire, the cool-blue-autumn burning to ash and power—

He cuts off the thought before it can fully form. It’s alarming how frequently he’s noticed his thoughts shifting in that direction lately. Or rather, it’s alarming to think about how frequently he didn’t notice it before.

Zhujiao’s thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he neared his home and noticed that the door was ajar. Unsurprisingly, he had been a little distracted as he left this morning – anticipating pain and all – but he hadn’t been so distracted that he had forgotten to lock his door.

He hesitated for a moment, torn between bursting in to confront the thieves – assuming they were still inside – or turning and finding the nearest city guard. Bursting in was the reckless choice, certainly, but realistically the city guard probably wouldn’t care about some random orphan enough to actually try helping.

Decisions, decisions.

The choice was made for him by a gentle, polite cough. It was clearly the sort of sound meant to draw attention. He turned to see a large man looming over him, and it took him a second to notice the red fabric tied around one arm.

Ah.

Clearly, the Red Talons weren’t distracted enough.

“Don’t let me stop you,” the man rumbled, gesturing pointedly at his door. For such an intimidating-looking fellow, his voice was surprisingly smooth – not to mention polite. Zhujiao allowed himself a moment’s hope that maybe Lao Yi had sorted things out – or, failing that, that the Red Talons would be vaguely understanding.

The fist that buried itself in his stomach as he entered his room said otherwise. Zhujiao sank to his knees, wheezing for breath, more surprised than truly hurt.

“And what sort of time do you call this?” A woman’s voice called mockingly. “We were starting to get worried you wouldn’t show!”

It took him a moment to recognise the same woman he had spoken to in the pub by the docks. She was lounging on his bed, boots up on the covers and a smirk on her face. The casual disrespect of her posture irritated him, but there were more important things going on here than his concern for cleanliness.

“Well, this is a cosy little place you’ve got here,” she drawled, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Zhujiao barely had time to react before the large man who had been looming by the door stepped forward, his fist crashing into Zhujiao’s ribs with a dull thud. Zhujiao staggered, the air knocked out of him again, but managed to stay on his feet. Instinctively, he reached for his Qi.

For a fleeting moment, he felt a sliver of control return, his movements slightly more coordinated, his mind a bit clearer.

Unfortunately, despite the hours he had spent learning his new cycling technique, his current reserves were best described as pitiful, and the small trickle of Qi quickly guttered out. The brief surge of confidence was gone, replaced by a sense of helplessness as another blow caught him on the shoulder, forcing him down to one knee.

The large man didn’t pause, driving his knee into Zhujiao’s side, sending him sprawling onto the floor. Pain flared through his body, but he bit down on a cry, unwilling to give them the satisfaction.

Ironically, the pain was the least of his worries – it hardly compared to what he had gone through earlier in the day.

The woman stood up from his bed and sauntered over to where he was curled up on the ground, crouching down beside him.

“You know, we’ve been real patient with you, letting Lao Yi take his sweet time. But patience isn’t exactly our strong suit.” She grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head up so he was forced to look at her. “Don’t you know it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“If I see one, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” he bit out through gritted teeth. Talking back might not be the smartest move, but right now, it was all he could do to keep from taking a swing at her.

The woman’s eyes flashed in predatory delight as she gasped dramatically. “Ah! He speaks! And he’s so cruel, as well. Baotu, did you hear what he said to me?” she whined at the man standing behind him.

“No respect,” Baotu agreed severely. “Would you like me to teach him a lesson?”

The large man didn’t wait for an answer, stepping forward to kick Zhujiao hard in the chest. The force of the blow sent him rolling onto his back, and his ribs creaked warningly. The woman released her grip on his hair and danced backwards to avoid him as he rolled.

The pain radiated through his torso, sharp and breath-stealing, but Zhujiao refused to give them the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

“Tsk, tsk,” she chided, standing up and brushing off her hands as if ridding herself of dirt. “You really should mind your manners, Zhujiao. We’re trying to be nice here, you know. But we won’t be nice forever, and your master is being awfully slow about paying his dues. You can consider this something of a… final reminder.”

She leaned in close, her breath hot against his ear. “Next time, we won’t be so gentle.”

The duo turned to leave, and the woman gave a final glance over her shoulder as she reached the door. “And clean yourself up, would you? It’s embarrassing.”

With that, she and Baotu exited, leaving Zhujiao alone in his ransacked home.

***

The appropriate response to this situation was probably fear. The pain might not bother him all that much – he somewhat suspected that the experience of having his meridians mapped had permanently adjusted his pain threshold – but being a little tougher than average wouldn’t stop them from, you know, stabbing him.

But as he rummaged through the scattered remains of his possessions, all he could feel was furious.

The Red Talons had taken his hard-earned savings (a total of one silver mark and forty-two copper jots), shredded his spare clothes, and put their muddy boots on every clean surface they could find.

It was the definition of adding insult to injury, and by this point his jaw was clenched so hard he was worried about cracking a tooth. A significant part of him urged him to track them down somehow, make them pay. Steal their money, see how they liked being on the receiving end of things.

Fortunately, reason prevailed.

Realistically, there was absolutely nothing he could do in this situation that wouldn’t make things worse – and even though things were clearly heading in that direction already, there was no reason to accelerate it.

He still didn’t know exactly how he was going to handle this whole situation, considering his master was patently unwilling to pay the protection money. Initially, he had been vaguely considering seeing if he could pay the difference, which might be a little cowardly but would neatly avoid the possibility of him being shanked while standing in line for a steam bun.

Now, though, he was thinking more along the lines of trying to set the city guard on them or maybe burning down their warehouse. Perhaps he was being a little more vindictive than usual, but really, who could blame him?

Unfortunately, for all that he was currently struggling with his temper, he knew that those were not real options – but he would have to figure something workable out, and fast.

If nothing else, his (somewhat concerningly aggressive) fantasies helped him get to sleep.

***

Liang wouldn’t look him in the eyes the next morning, and Zhujiao caught him wincing sympathetically out of the corner of his eye. If he was feeling charitable, he might think that the older boy was in over his head or perhaps hadn’t known what was going to happen to Zhujiao.

He wasn’t feeling charitable, so all seeing the guilty expression served to do was make him more angry.

He considered trying to leave the older boy with a cutting remark or something, but he’d never been particularly witty, and by the time he thought of something to say, the moment had passed.

It didn’t help improve his mood.

The streets were thankfully quiet, the usual bustle of the market yet to begin. It was somewhat unusually quiet, actually, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care right now. The thought of trying to push his way through the crowds with the dull ache of his ribs radiating through his body was… unpleasant, to say the least.

He pushed through the door of the clinic to find his master already inside, working on some basic remedies that he barely recognised. In hindsight, he really hadn’t actually learned all that much about healing. He’d read a few scrolls, of course, but everything had sort of fallen to the wayside once Lao Yi had revealed that he was a cultivator.

Unsurprising, really, but at least once this whole Red Talons situation was sorted out, he would have plenty of time to sit down and learn to his heart’s content.

The old man looked up as Zhujiao entered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the apprentice’s dishevelled appearance.

“Rough night?” Lao Yi’s voice was calm, but there was an undertone of concern.

Zhujiao forced a weak smile. “You could say that.”

Lao Yi studied him for a moment longer before nodding. “Sit down. Let’s take care of those injuries.”

Zhujiao obeyed, sinking gratefully into a chair. He expected his master to grab some poultices or herbs or something, but to his surprise, the old man simply sat down next to him and looked at him.

“Oh, I’m not going to heal you,” he said, acting surprised, “No, I’m going to teach you how to heal yourself.”

Zhujiao jolted upright in his seat. That sounded like he was going to learn a technique!

Lao Yi laughed at his eager expression, raising his hands in a calming motion. “Don’t get too excited now, my boy; this is possibly the single most basic healing technique there is. It’s not something that will turn you into a miracle worker, but it should help with minor injuries like these.”

“I’ll take it!” Zhujiao retorted, not deterred in the least.

“First, you need to gather your Qi,” Lao Yi instructed, leaning forward. “Visualise it flowing from your dantian, through your channels to the affected location. You’ll need to hold it there.”

Zhujiao did as instructed, finding the process easier than he had anticipated. “And then?” he asked.

“And then you wait,” Lao Yi shrugged, leaning back and chuckling at his apprentice’s expression. “I told you it was basic,” he said, “what did you expect?”

“I-I don’t know, something a little more impressive than ‘Gather your Qi’,” Zhujiao responded, pouting. For all that he felt a bit let down, the ache from his injuries was beginning to dull ever-so-slightly.

But it was draining him quickly. His reserves had filled a tiny bit overnight – apparently passive accumulation was a benefit of having a proper cycling technique – but not enough for him to keep the technique up for more than a minute at best.

He kept it up for as long as he could, and by the time the tiny pool of Qi in his dantian had shrunk to nothing he was pale and trembling, the effort leaving him more exhausted than he had anticipated.

He opened his eyes to find Lao Yi observing him placidly. “You should probably start cycling, Apprentice,” his master advised. “Completely draining yourself of Qi isn’t directly harmful, but it certainly isn’t good for you. While you do that, why don’t you tell me what happened to leave you in this state?”

Zhujiao nodded, adjusting himself into a slightly more comfortable position for the process. He fell into his new cycling technique easier than he had expected, and there was a noticeable improvement in effect from yesterday.

It still had nothing on the speed of cultivating he had enjoyed from the physical path, of course, but it was encouraging to see some progress already.

Zhujiao focused on his breathing, following the rhythm Lao Yi had taught him. As he inhaled, he imagined the ambient Qi in the air being drawn into his body, the energy tingling as it entered his lungs. From there, he guided it through the pattern of meridians that Lao Yi had highlighted as being most effective before it finally arrived at his dantian, stripped of harmful elements.

It wasn’t until Lao Yi cleared his throat meaningfully that Zhujiao realised he had forgotten to actually tell his master what had happened. Splitting his attention and maintaining the process was easier than he expected, and he quickly explained the events of last night.

His master’s face was carefully neutral as he listened, which, if he was honest, was not the reaction he had been hoping for. It might not sit well with him, but he wasn’t too proud to refuse any help his master could offer – though it relied on his master being sympathetic to his situation, which wasn’t looking terribly likely right now.

“I believe I said that this was going to be your problem to solve, Apprentice?” Lao Yi asked rhetorically, waving a hand at his aggrieved expression. Zhujiao would have complained anyway, but something in his master’s eyes held him back.

“Let me be clear,” Lao Yi continued sternly, “This is very much a test of your mentality right now. If you fail, I will be forced to handle the matter myself, and I make no promises that the result will be to your liking. With that in mind, let me ask you this – what is your plan for handling this situation?”