It’s been five damn years of clawing our way through the muck and grime of this festering slum.
Five years of pushing ourselves to the very edge of collapse every day as we cultivate and practice martial arts, Plum with his pilfered Grandsmith manual, and me with the cryptic Havenrun technique.
All while continuing to steal shiny garbage with no actual purpose other than to look pretty from the worst merchants of the city.
Surprisingly it’s both easier on my conscience to steal from assholes who hurt their customers and easier to find them.
They also usually skimp on guards too.
Even after five years in the slums we only had a small victory of convenience.
Here we were, standing at the grimy threshold of the fourth ring carrying a pouch of hard-earned coins.
They were heavy in my hand and I’m pretty sure this was a bad idea when we could just sneak across easily.
But Plum insisted.
Permanent residency.
Also known as not having to pay to come in from the fifth ring to enter the fourth and not having to sneak in when we didn’t have enough.
No more coughing up our meager earnings just to breathe slightly less musty air of a slightly cleaner ring.
Climbing up a single ring was a pathetic excuse for a victory, but a victory nonetheless.
"We did it, Spiritward!" Plum's grin was like a beacon in the gloom, his green eyes shining with unrestrained joy.
His once scrawny frame was now lean and muscled, a testament to his dedication to the low-green manual and his inherent talent.
Level three Body Tempering, just like me.
"Hmph," I grunted, the familiar bitterness twisting my lips.
"Five years for this," I muttered, my gaze sweeping over the still-ramshackle buildings and overflowing refuse bins. "Five years to barely escape the worst of it."
Plum's smile faltered, a concerned crease forming between his brows. "It's progress, Spiritward," he insisted gently. "We have food, and we have easier access to money and don't have to pay for walking down this street!"
Damn his optimism.
He meant well, the naive fool.
His apprenticeship with the grumpy blacksmith was going well, his knack for metalwork was exceeding even his cultivation talent.
As for me, Level three Body Tempering was evidence of the power of the annotated Havenrun manual.
Even with my garbage talent, the cryptic instructions and complex diagrams within, when practiced, had pushed me further than I think my body can handle.
I hope the difference in my talent and the manual's quality didn't turn into nasty side-effects. The manual was still cryptic and the references to the ‘changing of the toes’ had some really horrible meanings if I messed up a cycle.
Even if I did run into side effects, I didn't care unless they killed me.
Fear wasn't a luxury I could afford.
This manual was the key to pushing towards my body and spiritual form’s limits, was my only hope.
Even with its power, I knew my shitty talent would forever limit me.
At least this go-around and thinking that is actually kind of freaky, honestly.
I knew this talent gave me an absolute limit, especially with this manual.
I even heard that certain levels of talent could only learn a certain maximum quality of, and I believe it with the annotated manual from the havenrun clan being barely able to be understood. I even looked at Plum’s manual and it was easily learned but of lesser quality.
So I knew level nine of Body Tempering was my ceiling for this life, and that's if I'm lucky to live to be ancient.
Plum, despite his slightly better aptitude, was stuck in the same boat with his low-green manual.
So I’ll let the damn thing push me to the brink. Let it burn through me like a wildfire.
It was better to reach my peak and die trying than to stagnate and be crushed by this unforgiving world.
Better move forward fearlessly and survive long enough to earn another better shot at life.
I looked at Plum, his unwavering faith and boundless optimism a stark contrast to my own cynicism.
He was a fool, but he was a good friend.
We would survive. We would reach our peak. Then, we would die and I would try again.
I would miss him. But it was inevitable.
A tear went down my cheek which I slapped away.
Goddamnit. I’m ten right now and It’s not like I’m going to lose him right away.
Cultivating fast was the only hope we had in this shitty, unfair world.
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We exited the official looking residency papers building to be greeted by the stench of the fourth ring.
While the fourth ring of residency was an improvement over the fifth, it still clung to us as we made our way back towards the slums and then multiplied when we returned..
The air was thick with the smell of sweat, dust, human waste, cheap alcohol, and desperation.
This smell I could even taste was a constant reminder of the chasm that separated us from the privileged elite.
Even the fourth ring was just for the lower middle class.
"Five years," I grumbled, kicking a stray cobblestone down the dusty street, "for the privilege of not paying an entrance fee. What a joke."
Plum chuckled beside me, his good mood seemingly impervious to my cynicism. "Come now, Spiritward," he chided gently, "it's progress. No more bribes for those greasy gate guards, remember?"
Damn his optimism.
He wasn't wrong, though.
It was a step forward in the right direction however small however small that step was.
It definitely did open up new opportunities for resource acquisition.
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The more money there was the more likely a merchant would let their greed go to their head of course.
I noticed a group of young masters swaggering past, their gaudy silk robes and arrogant sneers practically screaming 'easy target.'
Each of them sported a bulging money pouch, practically begging to be relieved of its burden.\
I glanced at Plum and he followed me to a point where we could follow at a good distance.
We waited outside of their perception until their attention was fully on a stall owner who they clearly only bought food from so they could have an excuse to berate a victim.
“What manner of meat do you dare serve young master Shu?! What do you mean it’s RAT?! Cowtow to this granddaddy-”
"Think you can handle these pompous fools, Plum?" I challenged him with a mischievous glint in my eyes.
He grinned, a spark of excitement replacing his usual gentle demeanor. "Challenge accepted," he whispered, his movements mirroring my own as he seamlessly relieved the first young master of his purse, replacing it with a weighted decoy.
We moved through the observing crowd like wraiths, our hands a blur as we liberated one oblivious target after another of their excess wealth.
The chaos of the marketplace, the constant shouts of vendors and the drunken laughter of patrons, provided the perfect cover for our fast hands and swift movements.
Despite our casual approach and short movements, we remained undetected.
Perhaps our skills had simply sharpened over the years, or maybe the universe was finally cutting us a break.
We then walked away like nothing happened, turned a corner, and ran like hell.
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By the time we reached the edge of the fifth ring, our pockets were significantly heavier, and a thrill of satisfaction pulsed through me.
It wasn't just about the money, although that was certainly welcome. It was the victory, however small, over those who considered us beneath them.
It was a taste of control in a world that constantly sought to crush us.
As we slipped back into the familiar squalor of the slums, Plum bumped my shoulder with a playful grin. "We make a pretty good team, Spiritward," he said, his voice laced with genuine camaraderie.
"Don't get cocky, Plum," I retorted, unable to completely suppress a smirk of my own. "We just got lucky this time. But…" I paused, a rare flicker of warmth breaking through my usual cynicism, "yeah, we make a pretty good team. You’re the best friend a cynical shit like me could have."
“Glad you admit it, Spiritward.” He agreed wholeheartedly, I could tell from his voice.
I turned to Plum with my eyes narrowed. “OI.”
Then after a moment of Plum giving me a mock clueless stare and me looking at him with a ‘seriously’ pissed off expression, we burst out laughing.
As we disappeared into the maze of ramshackle buildings, I allowed myself a sliver of hope. Maybe, just maybe, we could carve out something more than just survival in this unforgiving world.
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We sat down at the center of the room in our ramshackle hut and started to check the loot.
I opened up one of the pouches, and my eyes widened.
"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, shock writ all over my features and eyes bulging from their sockets.
"What's happened spiritward?" Plum's startled call responded, looking at me with a serious eye.
He knew I didn’t emote that much and when I did it was serious.
"You better take a look for yourself!" I tossed him the small pouch.
Plum caught it and then opened the pouch, just like I did.
The shine of silver was absent, and so was the shine of gold.
What was within that pouch was the shine of a dim blue.
10 low quality spirit stones, or 1000 gold for each one.
10000 gold was staring us straight in the face.
Now how the hell were we going to spend these without getting ourselves killed.
1 month later
A month had passed since our lucky haul that we could never speak about or spend.
If we even so much as mentioned it in the earshot of anyone stronger than us it would cause a bloodbath to get those stones from us.
The pouch of spirit stones had become a burden rather than a blessing.
We had no way to spend them without drawing unwanted attention, and yet keeping them hidden was becoming increasingly difficult.
The adage 'harboring a jade is a crime' echoed in my mind, a constant reminder of the dangers of possessing wealth in this world where the might of one's fist made right.
We spent our days lurking in the shadows, listening to whispers and rumors in the marketplace.
There were tales of discreet shops catering to cultivators, places where anonymity was valued above all else.
But finding such a place in the slums, amidst the prying eyes and grasping hands, felt like searching for a pearl in a dung heap.
Frustration gnawed at me as the search for one of those places where you could just show up with a mask and they wouldn’t look at your cultivation level was increasingly sounding like absolute bullshit that didn’t actually exist.
The spirit stones were useless if we couldn't spend them.
We couldn't improve our living conditions, acquire better resources, or even buy our way out of this festering slum.
That night, I spoke to Plum by the communal well while no one else was there to listen.
"We have only one option left, Plum," I finally declared, my voice heavy with resignation. "We use them."
He raised an eyebrow, his green eyes filled with concern. "Use them? But how? We can't just overload ourselves with that kind of…"
"Cultivation that might destroy us?" I finished his sentence, my gaze hardening with resolve. "It's risky, I know. But it's better than living like rats hiding in a hole with a treasure we can't touch."
We returned to our hideout, a crumbling shack tucked away in the darkest corner of the slums.
With trembling hands, we each took five spirit stones, their cool surfaces radiating a subtle energy that hummed against my skin.
Following the instructions in the annotated manual, I channeled the spirit stones' energy into my meridians, guiding the potent Qi towards my dantian.
It was like trying to contain a raging torrent of water in the form of a tsunami trying to dump itself into a fragile vessel, the power threatening to overwhelm me.
I gritted my teeth, pushing through the pain as my meridians strained under the influx of external Chi.
My body trembled, sweat pouring down my face as I reached the breaking point as I forced myself to convert it into actual Qi for my dantian.
And then, with a surge of power, I broke through.
Level four Body Tempering.
A wave of euphoria washed over me, followed by a searing pain that ripped through my chest. I doubled over, coughing up blood that splattered onto the dusty floor.
Darkness consumed me.
I awoke to the sterile scent of herbs and the concerned gaze of an elderly doctor. I was in a medical hall, a far cry from the squalor of our hideout.
"You're lucky, young man," the doctor rasped, his voice gravelly with age. "You overexerted your meridians, pushing them beyond their limits. Another moment, and you could have shattered your dantian."
My heart sank. Shattered dantian? That meant the end of my cultivation journey, a fate worse than death in this world.
"Can it be healed?" I croaked, my voice hoarse with fear and the lingering pain in my chest.
The doctor shook his head, his face grim. "Not without a high-grade restorative pill. And those are beyond the reach of someone like you."
"How long…?"
"Ten years," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion. "Ten years before your meridians and dantian heal enough to cultivate again. If you survive that long, of course."
Despair threatened to engulf me, but then I saw Plum, his face pale but a determined glint in his eyes. He had also reached Level four, pushing himself with the low-green manual to match my advancement.
"Don't worry, Spiritward," he said, his voice firm despite the slight tremor in his hand as he wiped his lips. "I'll work harder. I'll support us both."
A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. "You're a good brother, Plum," I groaned out, a genuine warmth spreading through me despite the bleakness of our situation and the pain in my body.
We left the medical hall, the weight of the doctor's words heavy on our shoulders.
As we walked back towards the slums, I failed to notice the smear of blood Plum hastily wiped from his lips.
I would regret not noticing it.
I would regret it very much.
More than anything in this life.