Pinky howled like a banshee when she heard of Eric’s misfortune. Even Lily couldn’t hide her amusement. The usually stoic woman was doubled over in silent laughter as her friend looked on in embarrassment.
“Oh Zane,” the kitsune cackled, “That is truly a dark technique. Cultivators will surely grow to fear you.”
“And plumbers,” added Groucho, getting in on the fun. As a construct with no biological processes he found the situation particularly amusing. “Imagine how much you can save on cleansing pills!”
Eric fumed as they walked back to the city, both literally and figuratively. “I'm going to go take care of something,” he said, before hurrying off towards the nearest bathhouse.
Zane watched him go. He felt bad for embarrassing his friend, which was an unfamiliar feeling. But in all fairness, the side effects of his new technique had been a complete surprise.
As far as he could figure, the toxins left behind from his unsuccessful attempt to consume Eric's corruption had triggered a response similar to food poisoning. Eric’s body had simply tried to expel the corruption before it could reattach to his core.
Pinky saw the look on Zane’s face and took his hand in her’s. “It's going to be fine. We all know that it was an accident, and he knows that too.”
“I still feel bad about it,” the rogue cultivator replied.
“You should,” Lily said, “What you did was incredibly stupid. Trying out an unknown technique on your friends is a recipe for disaster. Countless cultivators have accidentally killed their sparring partners, that's why we have a rule against it.”
Before Zane could reply to defend himself, he noticed something strange. The streets near their restaurant were usually bustling with activity long into the evening, but today it was like a ghost town.
The vendors had closed shop early. Even the urchins and beggars were nowhere to be seen. The rogue cultivator felt his muscles tense. “Something's not right,” he said.
Lily strung her bow and took to the rooftops, while Zane and the others continued along the empty streets. Daisy and Dumpling were back at the restaurant, and Eric was at the bathhouse, which left him with Groucho and Pinky.
They fell into a loose triangle formation with Zane at the front. Neither were particularly good fighters, but he hoped things wouldn't come to that. Lady Foxglove’s warning rang in Zane’s ears as they made their way back to the restaurant.
As they rounded the corner, Zane caught sight of men in armor and cultivators in blue robes standing in front of the restaurant. He recognized a few of the city guards from brunch, but the rest were outsiders.
Captain Cerdo stood next to a tall man in a black robe. The stranger was richly dressed, with thick gold chains hanging down from his neck and fists full of jewelry. The captain wore a sour expression as he waved Zane forward.
“Good evening, Master Zane.” Cerdo gave a polite bow. “It is my pleasure to introduce you to Lord Bajade Grasa, who has seen fit to visit us in preparation for the winter festival.”
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
Even with his limited understanding of social cues, the rogue cultivator could see that Cerdo wasn't happy about something. The captain gritted his teeth when he spoke, as if the words disgusted him.
Zane bowed back. “Tell him that we're closed. Brunch will be served tomorrow at the regular time, though I would advise him to come early. Food sells out quickly.”
Lord Grasa’s facade of amused benevolence evaporated. This wasn't how he had expected things to go. “That was insulting,” he said, “Perhaps you might want to choose your next words more carefully, cultivator.”
“Nah,” replied Zane, “You and your shithead friends decided to show up on my doorstep unannounced. And judging by the good captain’s expression, he probably warned you not to.
“Worse yet, you brought cultivators from a sect that tried to harm the people under my protection. Perhaps you are the one who should have considered your actions more carefully, Lord Grasa.”
The rogue cultivator bowed again to captain Cerdo. “You and your men are dismissed. Have a nice rest of your evening.”
Lord Grasa watched in shock as the guards started to leave. “Surely you aren't going to let some nobody order you around. He's barely on his fourth tier!”
Cerdo paused. “Respectfully, your grace, I'd suggest you shut up before Zane feeds you to one of his pets. They call them ‘hidden masters’ for a reason.” Then he left without another word.
The disciples of the Crashing Wave Otter sect shifted uncomfortably as the guards left. One of them looked at Groucho with a puzzled expression. “Don't I know you?” he asked.
“No,” replied the construct.
“Enough of this nonsense,” growled Grasa, “I am here to request your assistance in a private matter of great importance-”
Zane cut him off. “No. Now, kindly fuck off. I have things to do.”
The lowland lord looked like he was about to have a fit. “Do you know who I am? I could make your life a living hell.”
“Possibly,” the young man admitted, “But you would have to make it home alive first.”
“Is that a threat?” Lord Grasa asked.
Zane walked forward until they were face to face. He removed his mask and looked Grasa directly in the eyes. “Was yours?”
The evening air went chill as the two men faced off. Neither one blinked. “That’s what I thought,” Zane said, “Now, Lord Grasa, I challenge you to a duel here and now. Accept it, or get the fuck off my property.”
“Actually,” interjected one of the bodyguards, “As an unaffiliated cultivator, You lack the standing to challenge someone so high above your station. The proper way would be to challenge me first.”
“As you wish,” Zane gave the man a short bow, “And after I kill you, who else would be next?”
Big man with an ax raised his hand. “That honor would fall to me. As an elite-”
Lord Grasa didn't even see Zane move. There was a gurgling sound, followed by two distinct thuds as the guards were decapitated.
The young man dismissed a shimmering knife with a wave of his hand and turned to face Lord Grasa. “It seems that all necessary protocols have been observed. Now, accept the challenge or fuck off. What happens next is up to you.”
“This isn't over,” warned Lord Grasa, “I will destroy you for this-”
Zane cut him off, literally and figuratively. A long thin knife was buried to the hilt in the man’s throat, the tip neatly wedged between his vertebrae, severing the spinal column.
“It is now,” the rogue cultivator said as he watched the lord collapse. He turned to face the dozen cultivators surrounding him. The man they had been hired to protect was dead, and they seemed unsure of what to do.
Zane decided to make the decision for them. It was better to make them all disappear, rather than leave loose ends. He walked past the dead lord and opened the door to the restaurant.
“Daisy! Dumpling!” the rogue cultivator called out, “It’s feeding time!”