Year 663 of the Stable Era,

  Twenty-second day of the eleventh month

  Now

  Chao Ren’s elbow collided with Lu Ri’s chest. For the barest of moments before he felt muscle bend beneath his qi-strengthened elbow, before the familiar grip of invisible force enveloped him. His body stilled, frozen midair like a snowflake caught by the tip of a sword. The announcer’s voice rang out over the quiet of the arena, drowning out the panting breaths of the two combatants.

  “And the victor of the Turtle Bracket is CHAO REN! Who will be representing the Teal Mountain Sect in the finals of the New Disciple Exhibition!”

  The cultivator himself took a moment to stagger to his feet as the technique supporting him set him upright, his breathing ragged as he struggled to gather his qi. His body was sore from Lu Ri’s blows, the pain redoubling now that he no longer had the fight to distract him.

  Thankfully, the arena was abundant with qi, more than ever now that he wasn’t fighting for it in close quarters. With each labored breath he slowly felt the ache of his meridians fade, his experience from the previous rounds finally aiding him in his recovery from the brink.

  He felt the faintest release of weight as a droplet fell from his face, and he looked down just in time to see crimson splatter against the dull stone. He touched his cheek, feeling the shallow cut still bleeding red down the side of his face.

  A casualty of his focus in the fight, that he’d lacked the moment he’d have needed to mend the wound. An acceptable loss at the time, but a waste now, when he was just spilling his precious vital fluids across the arena for no reason at all.

  Focusing his remaining qi, he drove it through the wound, forcing it shut. With his current skills he couldn’t truly heal such an injury without giving his body time to recover, even one as minor as this, but he could still seal it enough to prevent further blood loss until he received some proper treatment.

  The thought made him remember the rest of his injuries, and he slowly felt at the rest of his body, checking the severity of each wound as he diverted qi as needed. It only took a few moments, but by the end he was lightheaded. So, so, tired, but far less than he would have been if he’d allowed himself to continue bleeding from the dozens of scrapes and cuts he’d accumulated over the course of the round.

  Without a doubt this had been the most grueling fight he’d ever been in. Worse than his encounter with the ant guai, or any of his training or duels before today. Even a little bit slower at the end and he would be in Lu Ri’s place—lying battered and beaten on the ground.

  As if on cue, his former opponent and fellow disciple stirred. He groaned as he sat up, groggily rubbing his chin, clearly running through the last moments of their fight. He was barely more bruised than Chao Ren himself, the only sign of blood the thin line running from his left nostril, where one of his last desperate punches had connected.

  A strong foe, who had pushed him to his brink.

  But at the same time, a fellow member of his own sect. Which meant that he meant more than any of his other opponents. Certain respects needed to be given, to show solidarity.

  Chao Ren reached out, extending an arm to his former foe, and Lu Ri took it heartily, barely a grunt escaping his lips as Chao Ren pulled him to his feet. He was heavy at first, but soon infinitely lighter, as he used the momentum to spring to his feet. With a swift step he was close, then inside his guard, hands rising as his lips twisted into a smile.

  A trap?

  Here?

  Now?

  After he had just let down his guard?

  In front of so many?

  Chao Ren’s minds raced furiously as his qi lurched, but he was too slow. Barely circulating a breath before his opponent’s arms descended.

  One high, one low, carried by the might of the body cultivator’s prodigious muscles. They squeezed around his body, pressing his arms to his side before he could raise them in retaliation, crushing his guard against his chest.

  But then it was over. The high arm delivered a pair of hearty slaps, miraculously missing his bruised shoulders as Lu Ri broke away from him with a chuckle.

  “I guess that they really don’t call you the Great Sage for nothing, huh?” he laughed ruefully, the chains around his wrists scraping against the ground as he began to wind them up. “I really thought that I had you for a moment there, but I guess my technique is truly a far ways away from mastery after all.”

  Chao Ren winced a bit at the mention of his unfortunate moniker. That thing that had haunted him around every corner for the last five years.

  But at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride to hear it used with respect instead of irreverence. Something that he’d never thought that he’d feel for something that had been so haphazardly plastered to his back by Shou Chengtai all those years ago.

  He was still a long way from becoming a true sage, or even real greatness, but perhaps, for a moment, it wouldn’t be so bad to imagine such a fate. To dream of such success in the future, indulgent as it was, for a single moment.

  “If you train hard, things might be different next we meet,” Chao Ren managed, doing his best to construct a sentence that lived up to Lu Ri’s expectations of his reputation. “Our fight was determined by the slightest difference of technique, so clearly we both still have room to grow before we once again meet in combat.”

  With that he turned to leave, before he could say anything else that might ruin the moment, slowly making his way towards the side of the arena to retrieve his staff. Another disciple met him halfway, handing him back his weapon as they guided him over to a waiting room. It was the same one as his first round. It was an easy thing to remember, given the odd pattern of the door, which looked just like an old, wizened face scowling disappointedly at every passerby.

  Unnerving, when he had first stepped foot inside it, but almost reassuring now, that he was returning in triumph.

  Yes, triumph. Rich with it in a way that he had hoped—but never expected—for. He had proved their doubting glare wrong, and made something of himself. Proved that he was on the path to becoming a true cultivator. And that he was a disciple worthy of his sect and Shifu.

  The thought made his bruised muscles burn with anticipation, the white-hot sensation making him forget his pain for a moment. In the heat of battle he had barely been able to process it, but now the electric sensation of victory was all he could think about as it coursed through him.

  “Congratulations on your victory in the Turtle Bracket,” the disciple escorting him said as the door closed. “As you might know, there will be a short break before the start of the final two rounds to accommodate the Heartfelt Heartfire Cauldron Competition, which will be using the arena for their final judging and award ceremony. To ensure the best quality of fight, each participant of the New Disciple Exhibition has been presented with a Blood and Body Replenishment Pill, as well as a meal courtesy of Five Spice Nest to aid in their recovery.”

  The disciple’s gaze lingered jealously as he gestured to the covered zhenglongs, which were gently steaming on a small wooden table that had been set in the center of the room. Chao Ren refrained from acknowledging the look as they continued, simply nodding in quiet acknowledgement of his accolade.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “If you are in need of additional medical attention, a physician is on hand to treat minor injuries. But for anything more serious, they will be unable to provide assistance as per the rules of the tournament. You may choose to resign should you feel unable to continue, at which point they will be able to administer treatment.”

  “But between you and me, I would recommend that you make that decision sooner than later, so that the runner-up can take your place if you want to quit. You’re the only representative of our sect still in contention, so it would be a shame if we were to be forced to bow out of the competition on a forfeit.”

  He paused, looking at Chao Ren expectantly. Chao Ren blinked back at him for a long moment, before realizing that he was waiting for a reply of some sort.

  “Who else is in the finals?” he finally asked, pulling at his robes. They were uncomfortably wet from his own blood, and the squelching sensation wasn’t helping his injuries. His shoulder was starting to ache again, the soft cloth of his robes rough against the tender flesh of his barely healed cut.

  “I can’t say,” the disciple replied, before elaborating. “That would be considered interference.”

  “I see,” Chao Ren said, readjusting his robe again. “Is there…any chance that I could get some water? To wash off the blood from the last round?”

  “There’s some tubs in the corner,” the disciple said, waving at a pair of wooden vessels before passing him a small pill box.

  Chao Ren carefully inspected it, taking in the patterns of the intricate knotwork and delicate wax seal for long enough that the disciple began to pointedly tap his foot. Realizing what they were getting at, he hurriedly slid it into his pocket, before bowing to his guide.

  “Thank you for your assistance,” he thanked. “I will begin my preparations for the next round in a moment.”

  “Good,” the disciple replied with a nod. “I’ll be by the door if you need someone to fetch the physician.”

  As soon as the door closed behind him Chao Ren pulled out the pill box, cracking the seal off in a shower of violent violet chunks as he hurried to inspect its contents. He didn’t know how much time it would take for the finals to begin, which meant that he needed to dedicate every second he could to his recovery. The lines of the box glowed as it parted, illuminating its contents as he stared at the pill carefully nestled its velvet-lined hollow.

  It was a pale peach blossom pink, which shone bright against the dark red that surrounded it. The color matched the swirls that swept through its surface, their curves wild like the path of a summer breeze across a still pond. Wide and graceful in places, but narrow in others, compressed in sheafs around tight corners like the pages of a book.

  Its surface appeared rough, mirroring the oceanlike currents stretched across it, but it was in fact completely smooth to the touch, its apparent texture simply another quirk of the pattern of its delicate patina.

  Despite its color, it smelled nothing like a flower. Rather, it carried the sharp scent of dried peppers, a head-clearing fragrance that reminded Chao Ren of the surety of metal qi and the burning fires that forged its material cousin. It was a powerful pill to be sure, so far above the body refining supplements that he purchased with his assorted wages that he could feel precisely how cheap his usual fare was in comparison. Larger too—almost an inch wide, in comparison to the pealike things he took on a daily basis.

  For a moment, he almost considered pocketing it and simply forfeiting the next round when it started. It was certainly worth enough to be a tempting prospect, easily enough to supplement the prize he would receive for his placement.

  But that was a coward’s way of thinking. He had a chance, a real chance, to finally prove himself, and he would be a fool not to take it. With this pill he’d be in peak shape for the next round, and if they were anything like Lu Ri, he would be able to easily handle them without his devastating loss in the fourth round to drag him down. Persistence and finesse could overcome technique, as long as he regained his strength and kept his wits about him.

  And besides, he couldn’t imagine what sort of nickname he’d be stuck with if he tried to surrender to steal a profit. He’d practically be leaping into an even more unflattering moniker than the one he already had, and that wasn’t even accounting for the damage such an act would do to his reputation. A dishonor to his sect, and a greater dishonor to himself, all for what?

  A handful of spirit stones?

  A larger handful than he would make even with a few months of work, sure. But material gains were transient, and opportunity was fleeting. And he’d need both hands free to grasp it.

  His shoulder itches again, and with a sigh he finally peeled off his robes. They landed on the ground with a heavy thump and a squelch, his chest tingling as it was finally relieved of its sticky prison. He contemplated them as he stretched his arms out, enjoying the sensation of the air against his skin.

  It was quite the feat that they’d managed to remain unscathed for as long as they had, as aside from his first opponent he’d managed to avoid encountering too many blades. Aside from his last opponent, of course. Quite fortunate indeed, as it had allowed him to spare his spares a similar fate. And his purse as well, considering how much that would have cost him.

  He grimaced at the thought of having to replace all of his uniforms, the motion sending a twinge of pain down his side. He massaged it gently, doing his best to coax his frayed muscles into some semblance of comfort as he made his way over to the back of the room. They were stiff, like rice dough that had been forgotten under the sun for a summer afternoon, but with a finger of qi they began to soften up as he took the pill from its box, letting the wooden container fall to the ground behind him.

  Its stormlike wisps almost seemed to roil at his touch, as though aware of its nearing purpose. True to his guide’s words, there were a pair of tubs waiting for him in the back—one wide and empty, the other full of clear water. It was pleasantly warm to the touch, the result of a familiar formation carved around its lip. A small pile of washcloths sat next to them, folded into a neat stack.

  Stepping into the empty tub, Chao Ren crossed his legs as he prepared himself for the pill. His thoughts of the future rounds faded as he focused on the object in his hands and the wounds on his body. He would need to be careful with it, to channel its energies to heal his most pressing injuries before any others. Pills, despite their power, were generally unintelligent. And those that were required the cultivation of a Core Formation cultivator to survive.

  As soon as he consumed it, it would distribute its healing power wildly and evenly. Which meant that he would need to keep tight control to ensure that as little as possible would go to waste on healthy tissue. Not that he had much of that left at the moment, but that didn’t make such precautions any less prudent.

  Hand, leg, shoulder, head and cheek, and then blood before his muscles. He repeated the order over and over like a mantra as he swallowed the pill, bracing himself as he closed his eyes.

  The pill tasted like iron and blood, the sensation thick against his throat despite the smoothness of its glasslike exterior. He didn’t let it linger, quickly swallowing it whole before he could choke on it.

  He used to have issues swallowing pills of this size without water, but he’d gotten used to such things over the last few years of his pill routine. With well practiced motions he wrapped the pill with his qi as it entered his stomach, carefully unwinding its shell as it began to dissolve. It was easy at first, the medicinal qi soft and quick to assimilate—until he breached its core.

  Energy surged through him, bloody qi soaked with the vibrant violet of mountain berries and the dull, dank sensation of thick moss that had never known the light of the sun. A higher quality indeed than those he was used to, the resonance between its components more subdued, but far more intense for it, dense beyond what he’d thought a pill could be. A mixed blessing, as it made it both easier and harder to absorb in its own ways.

  There was little sensation to overcome, as he didn’t need to wrestle with the lingering will of its components, but the medicinal qi was thick and stubborn. Attempting to move it was like trying to move the mountain beneath his feet, heavier than even Shifu’s largest jade weight stones.

  But if he couldn’t make it move, perhaps he could encourage it. Shape its path, like the flow of a river.

  Chao Ren dug deeper inside himself, forcing his qi to circulate faster as he diverted it to his cuts and gashes. It ignored him at first, remaining roiling around his core, but eventually, grudgingly, the pill acquiesced, following his energy at first with a gentle lean before redoubling into a raging flood. Chao Ren didn’t let his focus relax for a moment, even as a surge of heat shot through him. Searing at first, like the harsh touch of a torch, but only for a fleeting moment before it wrapped around him like a warm blanket on a solstice night.

  A moment later the energy turned cold, a frigid wind that cut the comforting warmth to shreds in a heartbeat. He gasped in shock, before its second nature caught him a beat later, the temperature of the room relaxing and cool against his skin. Both warm and not at the same time. He felt the energy shift as he took another breath, and he readied himself as best he could before it could take him by surprise a second time.

  His breath was stable as the next wave of heat swept through him, and he focused on his circulation, forcing the pill’s energy to continue flowing through him rather than lingering too long in a single spot. Embracing the current rather than attempting to resist it.

  Uncounted minutes passed as his body alternated between heat and cold, each cycle further revitalizing him as he grew used to the sensation. Sore muscles began to relax, as his separated flesh resewed itself together. His breath grew easier as well, as the pulse in his veins began to fill, its emptiness disappearing as his blood was replenished. At times the current lurched, threatening to follow its own impulses, but each time he reigned it in, pulling it back into his meridians so that it wouldn’t beach itself against unmarred flesh.

  Eventually, the raging flood began to flag, and he nudged what remained along for another twelve cycles before it began to fade entirely. Its energy grew thin, the taste of blood little more than a trace of a memory as he finally absorbed what wisps remained into himself with a final breath.