“12 Qi Chips,” The shopkeeper declared firmly.
“Uncle, did you hit your head on your way to work this morning? This armor can barely function as a defense in practice spars, let alone actual combat. And you want 12 Qi chips for it?” Shen-Ya turned out to be quite the firebrand as she unleashed a verbal lashing onto the middle-aged looking shopkeeper.
“Fine, fine. Take it for ten and leave me be. Otherwise look elsewhere, hmph,” The shopkeeper acted offended, though from his tone Griffin thought it to sound more amused.
This time, it was Jun-Ra that stepped forward.
“Uncle, this is my cousin brother who has painstakingly made the arduous journey from the Verdant Valleys to reach Zenari-Shu. He has yet to even register with a sect, so I hope you can have some consideration,” Jun-Ra politely haggled in the guise of a request.
“Well then, you can tell your cousin brother that I am in the business to make money, not charity,” The shopkeeper replied with a sneer.
“Fine. Let’s go then, Senior Sister Jun,” Shen-Ya said, her displeasure carried on her face.
Jun-Ra nodded and Griffin mutely followed, not sure what else to do.
“Wait!” The shopkeeper called out as their procession continued to walk deeper into the market district. “Take it, alright. Seven Qi Chips, just don’t make a scene.”
A small smile played at Shen-Ya’s lips as she effortlessly pivoted on one foot to turn around, as if she had expected their encounter to end exactly in this manner.
“Pleasure doing business,” Shen-Ya smiled coyly at the shopkeeper, who met it with an irritated harrumph even as he swiped the translucent blue, round chips that she had offered to him.
“Take it,” He thrust the light armor forward and Shen-Ya plucked it out of his hands easily.
“Thank you kindly,” She offered, concluding the exchange.
They continued walking down the market district and it took only a moment for the armor shop to wink out of his line of sight, replaced by a thick throng of people that were going about their business.
“Why didn't you negotiate for the footwear and the sword?” Griffin asked, curious what the difference lay between the three commodities. Why one would attract such impassioned negotiating whilst the other two items had been readily bought.
“Those were cheap,” Shen-Ya explained. “We don’t really need to give you a good sword, the sect will take care of that for you. Armor though, yeah, there’s really no such thing as cheap armor.”
“Those was some impressive negotiating skills,” Griffin remarked, which was high-praise coming from one of Earth’s greatest con-artists.
“Impressive? Bah,” Shen-Ya waved her hand. “The armor is worth seven Qi chips, he still walked away with a neat profit of three Qi chips. Everyone knows that the market district sells everything on an insane markup, but they’re here with the permission of the Martial Law Sect, so…”
“They go easy on you once you’ve established yourself in the sect,” Jun-Ra explained. “As newbies though, both of us know the bitterness of being scammed at the hands of those wily merchants.”
“I see,” Griffin noted, admittedly a bit amused. “Now what?”
“Now, we knock at the Martial Law Sect’s doors.”
----------------------------------------
Griffin immediately noticed the change in the atmosphere as they left the market district behind. Besides the occasional cultivator gliding through the skies on a flying sword, the general mood of the area had shifted from a bustling chaos to a reserved calm.
The stone-tiled road he tread on was wide enough to field an entire convoy of trucks, flanked by meticulously maintained floral bushes that exuded a fragrant scent.
The other cultivators walking down the roads were as well-dressed as they were stone-faced, their expressions neither friendly nor decidedly rude. No one tried to make small talk with them and Griffin’s inner jovial, outgoing american had long since been lost as he lived out a life trying to evade detection.
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That was fine by him.
He noticed that they had covered about a tenth of the distance to the golden and silver pagoda when Jun-Ra finally slowed her pace down.
“Are you tired?” She asked, her tone tinged with genuine concern. Which again, was odd— why was she so concerned about a suspicious nobody like him.
“Less tired than I expected to be,” Griffin replied with the truth, impressed by just how much three free points had changed his physiology.
“Well, we’re almost there,” Shen-Ya revealed, before pointing to a gateway that ran alongst the wall in the distance, flanked by two people. It was hard to make out the details from that distance, but Griffin nodded gratefully nevertheless. Another ten minutes and his aching legs could take a break.
When he finally arrived, every ounce of lethargy he felt left his body.
Before him, Griffin sensed a power, a presence that far surpassed both Jun-Ra and Shen-Ya. No, there were two presences. Two individuals clad in matching sets of heavy armor, with glaives that was longer than his own once impressive height held before them with a two-handed grip, stared down at him like he was an insect they were waiting to crush. He only needed to give them a reason.
“Guardian Jun-Ra. Disciple Shen-Ya. Who is that cultivator?” A heavy, no-nonsense voice barked out the question.
Both Jun-Ra and Shen-Ya bowed and Griffin, who had been instructed to mirror their mannerisms and stay shut unless spoken to, bowed as well.
“Elder Shirong. Elder Ma. This is my cousin brother Gen-Ra, who made the arduous journey from the Verdant Valleys to Zenari-Shu on his lonesome. He had heard of my rising fame and exploits and foolishly decided to set out in search of his own glory with makeshift armor and a dull sword. I only learned of his arrival upon being told by a fellow Guardian that an odd cultivator who had neither coin nor equipment to his name was calling for me, repeatedly.”
“This child traversed the entire journey on his lonesome? He looks weak enough that an errant breeze would be enough to knock him over,” The one Jun-Ra had looked at first and addressed as Elder Shirong muttered.
“Indeed, Elder Shirong. I was surprised when I heard his tale and wished to reprimand him for it. But his determination and bravery, though misplaced, is worthy of the mindset of one who wishes to embark upon the grand calling of a cultivator.”
“Well child,” Elder Ma began. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Griffin was once again reminded of crashing presence that the two Elders exuded, merely by standing before him.
He was pretty sure this was not how the script Jun-Ra had written for him was supposed to go, but she had filled him in with enough basic facts about cultivator society, the Verdant Valleys and Zenari-Shu for him to come up with just enough of an answer.
However….
Would he settle for just enough?
If there was one thing he was proud of, it was his ability to con people. Magical wizard? Shadow Cultivator? It didn’t matter, he could con them all.
“Revered Elder, despite my calling as a Martial Artist, I was weak,” Griffin began with an admission that was frowned upon in cultivator society. “I was weak, Elders and I was not content with my own weakness. I sought to rectify that weakness by the only means I knew. You may send me back to the Verdant Valley if you so wish, but I swear upon my soul that I shall return. Again and again, as many times as it takes,” Griffin acted his speech out with the charisma of a tragic hero on a grand quest that he could not afford to fail, no matter the cost.
The essence of a great lie lay in a heavy sprinkling of truth. Griffin wasn’t lying when he said that he hated his own weakness. He hated being so passive as he was forced to switch countries, hide his identity in subterfuge and not even be able to use the money that he had sacrificed so much for.
It was fine if a group of politicians openly indulged in insider trading and alphabet soup agencies reappropriated the funds of ‘illegal’ crypto exchanges, but when your average not-so-ethical hacker, Griffin Thorne did it, everyone had a problem.
He couldn’t have done anything about it in his old world, there wasn’t any mana or qi back there after all. Now though? Magic, Cultivation and whatever else mumbo-jumbo Aeldfane was concealing? He wanted it all.
Jun-Ra froze in place, her expression paling a shade as if she had just seen a ghost.
Shen-Ya’s left hand began to tremble as her mind struggled to come to terms with the words Griffin had just uttered.
‘All the blasted Oath-Paladin had to do was request entry to the Martial Law Sect’s Inner Courtyard and promise to work hard. Senior Sister Jun-Ra is on good terms with Elder Shirong, it would’ve gone perfectly smoothly. So why…..’ Shen-Ya asked herself, but could not think of any feasible reason to do that.
“Oh?” Elder Ma asked, his eyes looking into Griffin’s own.
Contrary to Griffin’s expectations, there was no magical light beam that incinerated him on the spot for his cheeky response.
Instead, the Elder just searched his gaze, his presence and the energy he radiated enough to intimidate even the bravest of disciples.
Unfortunately for him, Griffin wasn’t one to flub in high-pressure situations.
“How amusing,” It was Elder Shirong who spoke, revealing a sweet, feminine voice that seemed to be a polar opposite of the heavy, overly formal voice earlier. “Very well, I understand Guardian Jun-Ra. Your Cousin Brother may join the Inner Courtyard for three months. If he wishes to stay, he needs to conquer the fifth floor of the Gilded Dungeon within that time period. Fail and he will never be allowed back into the Martial Law Sect. Succeed and I will take him as my first personal disciple.”
“Y-Yes, Elder Shirong. I understand,” Jun-Ra answered before Griffin could and not long after, the gates to the Martial Law Sect’s inner courtyard opened.