When Wu Ling and Su Xiang arrived at a branch of the Loose Cultivator’s Association, they had expected that there might be as many as a few dozen cultivators engaged in some business, whether they were taking odd jobs posted to the Association, bartering or selling the spoils of their missions or browsing the Association’s impressive collection of cultivation techniques for low-level cultivators, there was always a reason for some number of people to have gathered at any one of the Association’s twelve branches in the Outer City.
What they didn’t expect to see was a veritable horde of burly men, some beaten and bruised, others looking like their souls had been carved out with a dull spoon and many of them standing in a very long line to apply for the status of a loose cultivator.
“What is all this?” Su Xiang asked, clutching Yue to her chest as though to shield the fluffy Guardian Beast from the towering men. “I’ve seen this kind of thing when sects have recruitment days but I’ve never seen this for loose cultivators. Who are these men?”
“Oh, so you’re not here to join the third-rank sects that are fishing in troubled waters?” The person who spoke was an older cultivator, a middle-stage Brawler like Su Xiang but one who had likely been stuck at his current cultivation level for decades longer than she had been alive. “Something shook the Red Tiger Den and the Elders of their disciplinary hall exiled over a hundred disciples for using their cultivation to bully women.”
“The Red Tiger Den?” Wu Ling said, taking a look around the crowded room for a moment before he spotted a few familiar figures. “Sister Xiang, look,” he said, gesturing to the sorry-looking figures of San, Er, and Wan as they shuffled forward in line to register as loose cultivators.
“Huh, it looks like someone finally got caught,” Su Xiang said with a vindicated smile.
“Oh, if you have proof that any of these men are guilty of what they’re accused of, there are some people who might pay you well for that,” the older brawler said, pointing at several well-dressed cultivators in the robes of a number of different sects. “Some of the disciples from the Red Tiger Den are protesting their innocence and there are other sects that are eager to snap up any talented disciples that may have been caught in the purge. Those recruiters aren’t looking too deeply into matters but they’re all willing to pay for information if it helps them avoid bringing home the people who provoked this purge.”
“We don’t have any real proof,” Wu Ling said quickly, wanting to avoid trouble with the powerful brawlers that had harassed them earlier. While they had lost the backing of their sect, they still possessed superior strength and cultivation and Wu Ling didn’t want to make matters worse just to keep them out of some other third-rank sect. “Come on Sister Xiang, let’s go. I can come back to register on a different day,” he said.
“You’re right,” Su Xiang said, suppressing her instincts to go tell the recruiters about her experience with the six men from the Red Tiger Den. While she still had the protection of the Shining Blade Hall which would be even more effective at keeping the recently exiled cultivators at bay than it had been while they were still sect members in good standing, Wu Ling had no such protection. If he provoked things further, it could create trouble for him and his mother that they couldn’t bear. “Let’s go to the bar I told you about, it’s not far from here and while we might not say anything to the recruiters about those brutes, we can at least drink to the fact that justice has been done,” she said with a wide smile.
Less than ten minutes later, the pair reached the Silver Stag, a five-story restaurant arranged around a large open first floor with balconies that overlooked the main floor from the second and third stories. The fourth and fifth floors were closed off to more exclusive guests or those desiring a more reserved atmosphere but the first three floors blended into a chaotic, boisterous, and energetic space beloved by young cultivators. The dishes served were large in portion and generous in ingredients that contained traces of spiritual energy and while the wine would disappoint most refined palates, few of the young people drinking here had developed any kind of refinement to know the difference.
On a stage on the first floor, two young women played bright energetic music on a zither and flute while they led the crowd in stomping their feet to take the place of a drummer. Wu Ling and Su Xiang had taken a small table with a good view of the stage and Su Xiang had ordered enough dishes and jugs of wine to fill half the table.
“What do you think of the musicians?” Su Xiang asked, noticing Wu Ling’s distracted gaze. The two women on stage were both attractive though in very different ways. The young woman playing zither was petite and had an almost doll-like cuteness that contrasted with her elegant mannerisms and refinement that felt out of place in a rowdy establishment like the Silver Stag. The woman playing flute, however, flaunted her generous assets and carried herself with a far more carefree attitude that felt right at home among the boisterous young cultivators. Looking at Wu Ling’s intense gaze, Su Xiang couldn’t help but wonder if one of the charming musicians had captured his attention.
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“I think Senior Sister Yao Meifeng is overworking her right wrist and it shows,” Wu Ling said without turning away from the performance. “She’s tired, she’s struggling to keep up with the girl on the flute who doesn’t seem to care, and her zither is out of tune on the third and sixth string but no one is giving her a chance to fix it,” he said, his expression growing darker the more he said. Yao Meifeng’s performance was mediocre at best but he knew she was capable of so much more than what she was giving this crowd. Seeing her like this, playing through pain on an out-of-tune instrument… it hurt on multiple levels.
“You know her?” Su Xiang asked in shock. She’d thought that if Wu Ling wasn’t interested in them as attractive women then he was probably paying attention to the musicians as a sort of professional interest. She felt it might be the same as how she would watch a sword fight, learning from those who are better and critiquing those who weren’t as skilled. In this case, however, it turned out Wu Ling had some connection with the young zither player on the stage. “Did you go to school with her?”
“I did until she graduated last year,” Wu Ling said absentmindedly, not paying much attention to the conversation as he waived over one of the mortal staff members. “Bring me a bucket full of ice water and a clean cloth, I need to help someone before they hurt themselves anymore,” he said, placing a few taels of silver on the table. “Once I’ve taken care of them, in an incense stick’s worth of time, bring them a fresh cloth and a teapot full of hot water. Just hot water,” he clarified. “They don’t need any tea to go with the water.”
“Ice water now, hot water to follow,” the waiter repeated. “As you wish my lord,” he finished with a bow.
“Excuse me, Sister Xiang, I’m going to go help Senior Sister Yao for a bit,” Wu Ling said, sliding smoothly out of his chair and threading his way gracefully through the crowd to the stage. A few minutes later, once his bucket of ice had been delivered, he found the opportunity he’d been looking for to speak up in the small space between songs where the performers allowed themselves to take a few sips of water before diving back into their performance. “Senior Sister Yao is working hard today,” Wu Ling said with a smile from directly in front of the stage. “Your junior brought some ice for your right wrist,” he added, lifting the bucket and the cloth. “I can take the next few songs while Senior Sister takes a rest.”
“Junior Brother,” Yao Meifeng said hesitantly, trying to understand how she could even have a junior brother, but there was something familiar about his appearance and the way he addressed her that left her certain she really did know him, she just couldn’t remember from where. More importantly, her wrist truly did need a rest, and the ice he’d brought called to her like a gift from the Heavens. “Thank you Junior Brother for the offer, but have you brought your zither?”
“Ah, for this, I have to apologize,” he said, cupping his hands and bowing slightly. “I’ll need to borrow Senior Sister Yao’s zither for a little while,” he continued, stepping up on stage and taking her right hand gently in his left while he wrapped her wrist in a cool cloth. “Senior Sister doesn’t need to worry,” he whispered into her ear in a soft lilting voice. “Just trust your Junior Sister Wu Ling to take care of things,” he added, pulling back and giving her a wink and a smile before taking a seat behind her zither.
“Yao Meifeng?” Su Xiang asked, reaching out to help the young Artist down from the stage. “I’m Wu Ling’s sworn sister, Su Xiang. Come sit at our table while Brother Ling plays. He said you’d need to change for a hot cloth after a little while so you can wait with me,” she finished with a helpful smile, guiding the confused Yao Meifeng over to their table.
“Is that really,” Yao Meifeng paused, “really Wu Ling?” She stared in disbelief as Wu Ling quickly fixed the tuning on her zither, his motions smooth, practiced, and possessing the same sort of delicate grace that she’d been taught at the Pure Virtue Musician’s Hall but somehow, seeing the handsome young man doing it, it felt… different.
“It really is,” Su Xiang reassured the young musician. “Believe me, I was probably as stunned when I saw him at your former school attending classes with my younger cousin as you are now seeing him like this,” she said, passing over a bowl of spicy boiled peanuts. “Just watch, I think he’s about to get a small bit of revenge for you,” she said as she noticed the glances Wu Ling was giving the woman with the flute.
On the stage, the woman with the flute tapped her feet impatiently. “We’re losing the crowd pretty boy,” she said curtly. “Hurry it up.”
“You want me to hurry?” Wu Ling said, glancing up at the woman with a charming smile. “Most women want things to last a bit longer,” he added playfully. “But if you want fast, we can go fast. Do you think you can keep up?”
“Don’t worry about me, just…”
Before she could say anything further, Wu Ling’s fingers flashed over his borrowed zither instantly drawing the crowd’s attention back to the stage with a clear and resounding cascade of notes. “Everyone,” he said with a slow, lazy smile. “Today, you’re in for a treat.”