Year 663 of the Stable Era,

  Twenty-second day of the eleventh month

  A…while later

  Chao Ren breathed out, until nothing remained left in his lungs to breathe out anymore. He held it for a long moment, embracing the sensation until his body ached for a fresh breath.

  It was wondrously refreshing when it came, free of the subtle aches and strains that he hadn’t realized he’d picked up over the day’s bouts. The sort of casual ease that was easy to forget in its absence, but appreciated upon its return. At least for the first few hours, until the sensation of freedom settled into a new norm.

  Finally opening his eyes, Chao Ren tried to shake off his arms, only to discover that the heavy sensation weighing them was a thick assortment of…liquids. The remains of his own half-hardened blood, combined with the impurities that the pill had driven from his body, had concealed into a thick, viscous gel that clung to every inch of his skin.

  Too late, he realized that he had neglected to strip out of his other garments in his haste to use the pill. His pants and undergarments were now thoroughly soaked by the foul mix of his own juices, to say nothing of his lucky red socks. The unfortunate footwear was now more black than red, squelching unpleasantly as he did his best to peel them off without tearing their fabric.

  Careless. Too Careless.

  He’d let his excitement get the better of him. Even if they were only his second luckiest pair, it was still a terrible tragedy that he’d let something so precious to him suffer because of his own impulsiveness.

  And to an amateur’s mistake of all things.

  The sort that he’d never have made if he hadn’t let himself get so caught up in the moment. They’d never be the same after this, even if he made sure to wash them a dozen times over. Pill residue was that sort of terrible contaminant, the type that just indelibly ruined anything that it made contact with. He’d be lucky if he managed to return them to some semblance of clean after all this, but even then they’d be permanently crippled. No longer able to rejoin the ranks of his good clothes—condemned forever more to the rank of disposable.

  It was lucky that he’d kept his luckiest pair of socks in reserve, he thought to himself as the last of his undergarments joined them on the ground. He’d been cautious about wearing his beloved favorite pair into combat, where they could be permanently damaged, or worse, destroyed, by his first fumbling attempt at competition. Which was why they were currently resting safely in his storage ring, alongside his third and fifth luckiest pairs. He’d mostly kept them close for morale support, but considering the stakes of his next bout, there was no greater time to don them than now.

  After he’d cleaned himself off, of course. There was no sense in allowing his mistake to permanently mar a second pair if he could help it. He noticed that water in the tub had cooled drastically when he dipped his first towel into it, a worrying sign that perhaps he had spent longer than he’d thought absorbing the Blood and Body Replenishment Pill. A worrying development, given the limited time he had left to prepare himself for the next round.

  He’d have to hurry if he was to finish the rest of his preparations in time. He had so much more to do in so little time. Uncertain time as well, as he had no idea how much he had left.

  Perhaps he should take Bailong Shen up on his offer after all. At moments like these a clock would be a boon beyond boons.

  But that was another concern for later!

  He had to focus!

  Focus on the task at hand.

  To make haste, but carefully. Doing everything, he needed to prepare himself without allowing anything else to slip between the cracks. The heating formation went ignored as he began to methodically clean himself, unwilling to waste the time or qi on mere comfort when there was so much on the line.

  Sweat, soot, and blood disappeared with each stroke, joining the rest of the pill’s residue at the bottom of the tub with each wring of the cloth. A tournament’s worth of grime sloughed away like mud in the rain. After three cloths worth of scrubbing he was finally clean enough to step into water of the second tub without immediately fouling it, and he sank into what remained of its now lukewarm depths with a grumbling sigh that rattled against the back of his tongue.

  He cleared his throat, gathering up the tingle of irritation as best he could before coughing a ball of phlegm onto the pile of dirty towels. The last remains of the pill, no doubt full of desiccated fungus and the remains of powdered bones. Perfect pills that left no waste were a rare thing after all, so he made sure to repeat the motion a couple more times to clear the last of it out of his airways.

  While the remains were mostly harmless, beneficial even, if he had the time to let his body fully absorb them, there was simply no time for that now. It was just too risky. The next bout could be determined by the slightest of margins, and even something so small could mean the difference between defeat and victory.

  No, he needed to do everything he could to tilt the scales of victory in his favor while he had the chance. Diligence in painting the smallest of scales, before he attempted to dot the dragon’s eyes.

  He finished the rest of his bathing in silence, taking care to focus on how he circulated his qi as he stripped the last of the grime from his body. Stepping from the tub, he carefully dried himself off, taking special care with his feet before he slid on his lucky socks.

  They were comfortingly warm around his toes as he dried the rest of himself, pulling one of his better-kept uniforms from his storage ring before dressing himself with almost ritualistic care. Undergarments and dark pants, followed by his pale inner robe. His nephrite outer robe came next. The faded orange hems on his sleeves rustled as he straightened it out, the mark of his novice status bright against the dark green cloth. His sash was barely tied when a knock rattled the door, the sudden sound startling him. Expecting it to open, he turned to face it just as the disciple from earlier called through it.

  “The pill tournament’s wrapping up! Your round will be up in about twenty minutes, barring a long speech.”

  “Thank you senior!” Chao Ren called back, glad that they’d left it closed as he made his way over to the table that had been set up in the center of the room. The zhenglongs had held their temperature far better than the bath, probably due to some sort of subtle spell woven into the bamboo. A temporary magic, as he felt its qi start to dissipate the moment he lifted the first lid.

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  It was surprisingly plainer fare than he would have expected from a restaurant as famous as the Five Spice Nest, but its aura alone was enough to tell him that it was anything but simple. The pair of meat skewers, while unadorned by any sort of sauce, practically radiated qi; a fierce, heated aroma that tingled the hairs of his nostrils as he breathed it in. It lent a gemlike quality to its spices, the dull greens and reds encrusting the meat glittering to his qi sense. He couldn’t even recognize what it had come from, only that it was probably a land animal of some kind. Or a truly bizarre fish or fowl.

  Whatever it was, it was delicious. The heat of the fire qi that had been used to prepare it was expertly seared into the meat, reinvigorating his meridians as its energy swept through him. It burned his throat as he took a second bite, the combination of spice and qi almost overwhelming.

  His hands went to his chopsticks, digging into the accompanying bowl of rice for something to dull the fierce flavor. The spirit rice was no less potent for its plainness, the qi of the pristine grains firm and unyielding. It was refreshingly sweet and incomparably light and fluffy as he bit into it, mellowing the flavor of the meat as it soothed his tongue.

  Reaching for the side dish, he found the plate of pickled radish to be the perfect complement to the rest of the flavors. The preserved vegetable was surprisingly juicy, refreshing his tongue with a rich, soothing balm of water and wood qi. Its tangy aftertaste cleansed his palate, just as its mild saltiness whetted his appetite for more. Obligingly, Chao Ren dug in, each bite more enthusiastic than the last.

  It was the perfect meal for the moment. Rich in qi, and light enough that he could enjoy every bite without worrying about filling his stomach with ballast. The perfect thing to prepare him for the next round, and whatever lay in store for him.

  ***

  “Shit, did I miss the winner?” Lee Han asked, tapping on Xia Bao’s shoulder to be let in. The big cultivator obliged, accepting a steaming bowl of shrimp fried rice from his companion as he passed.

  “Well, it was pretty close in the beginning, but after the first quarter the difference in experience really made the difference,” Bao replied, taking a bite as he watched the judges prod a bright blue pill around a dish.

  “It looked like the disciple from the Great Dessert Walkers had it after their initial stumble, but our representative—”

  “Xu Xiuchun, you mean,” Lee Han interrupted.

  “Right, Xu Xiuchun,” Bao amended, remembering that they were somewhat close to Lee Han, given the way that he’d been on the edge of his seat before he’d had to rush off to the bathroom.

  “Well, she managed to pull through after using an improvised array to stabilize the heat of her pill while she concocted some sort of tincture-liquid-thing to quench its finish or something. The announcer gave a very complicated description of it when she did that and how it complemented the effects of the pill. I think the judges gave her a few points for innovation on that, but then the guy from the Profound Depths Sect used a prepared submersion method to finish his, and I think that that might make all the difference, because they’re taking a long time to inspect his pill.”

  “Howso?” Shen asked as he retook his seat. He’d made himself more comfortable while he was gone. His pale green Inner Disciple’s robe was hanging loosely over his muscular frame, now that he was no longer required to maintain the strict decorum demanded by whatever obligation had kept him so long. Unlike Lee Han he hadn’t gotten anything to eat while he was up, just a steaming kettle of tea that he was carefully cradling with his tail as he poured the group a round.

  “It makes your teeth a bit whiter,” Li Lee answered, scootching to the side as the tail leaned precariously close to his shoulder. “So, how much did you put on Chao Ren this time?”

  “About half,” Lee Hand said confidently, his tail curling with satisfaction under the bench as he dug into his skewers. A staggering new variety had sprung up following the finals of the Heavenly Wok Competition, and he was already enjoying the fruits of the innovation it had inspired. Even the one with the persimmon glaze, which had sounded like an abomination when the vendor had offered him one.

  “How much is that at this point?” Bao asked, a bit concerned by the vague rate. Lee Han hadn’t shared the odds of all of his bets, but he knew for certain that the fight with Lu Ri had been heavily favored against their friend. Whatever he’d put down had to have made the young tiger a massive windfall, and if he was putting down half of his total earnings…

  “Oh, just 350 spirit stones,” Lee Han replied, with barely a second’s hesitation.

  Ah, almost double the last bet he’d placed. And an eye widening amount for a tournament of this size. But certainly he’d won far more than that in the last round. Lu Ri had been a highly favored contender, and Chao Ren had been a serious dark horse, even so late in. And judging by some of the cheers that he’d seen (including his friend’s), the odds had to have been at least 3 to 1on his victory. Did he mean half of his profits then?

  “Only that much?” Li Lee asked, saving Bao the trouble. “Surely you’ve made more than that today.”

  “Oh, I have,” Lee Han laughed, taking a sip from the steaming cup in his paw. “I started off with a 50 spirit stone bet on Chao Ren, and after a few double ups, and skimming a bit to keep after each one, I’m up by a decent amount. And that’s not counting the last round, which was 4.2:1 odds, so I made a tidy profit off of that alone.”

  “But the Teal Jade Gambling Association caps ringside bets at 350 spirit stones. And I don’t feel like dragging my ass all the way over to Benevolent Jade Betting Society’s pagoda just to place a bigger bet. Besides, I want to enjoy the competition. Having so much of a stake in winning that I’d come to resent Chao Ren for losing would only sour the mood.”

  “That’s surprisingly mature of you,” Shen said, brushing a strand of long blue hair to the side.

  “What do you mean surprisingly?” Lee Han huffed, stuffing yet another skewer into his mouth. “I am the refined result of my noble lineage.”

  “Then where are the skewers I asked you to get me, oh great noble scion?” Shen asked, looking pointedly at the fistful of empty sticks in his companion’s hand.

  “Ah! Are you kidding me?!” Lee Han exclaimed, biting through the end of his skewer as the judges announced the first elimination. “Do you have stones for eyes!? That’s a perfect pill! Green-hat bastard!”

  He turned back to Shen as the announcer motioned for the crowd to settle, as more than a few of their fellow sect members seemed displeased by the verdict.

  “Sorry. Right, which ones did you want again?” he asked, eyeing the remaining half-stick of spicy beef in his hand.

  “Well, certainly not that one,” Shen glared. “I gave you the money for two spicy beef skewers, and a soy sauce skewer for both chicken and quail.”

  “Do you think that you can wait til after?” Lee Han asked, taking a quick inventory of the long-since devoured sticks.

  “Would you want to, in my position?” Shen countered, his tail twitching slightly. A drop of boiling tea came dangerously close to spilling onto Li Lee, only to be intercepted at the last moment by the dragon’s cup.

  “Fuck.” Lee Han rose, eyes darting between the clearing stage and the line at the stand. “So: two beef, one chicken and one quail. Soy sauce on the birds, spicy for the beef, right?”

  “Yes. Although if they have any of the summer plum sauce left, I’ll take that on the quail instead. If you hurry, I think you should be able to make it back in time for the—”

  Lee Han was already gone before he could finish, and Shen chuckled as he watched him do his best to slip through the growing crowd. The representative of the Profound Depths Sect was midway through a triumphant awards speech as the young dragon set his kettle on the ground, apologizing to Li Lee as he did. Bao took another bite of his shrimp fried rice, watching the corridor to the arena as he waited for the dark-robed cultivator to finish thanking his teacher.

  Only a bit more time before Chao Ren’s next match.

  He hoped that his friend had managed to recover in time. He’d barely managed to eke out his victory against Lu Ri, but the same trick might not work on his next opponent. And with so much more riding on the next round, the risks were higher than ever. The competitors more hardened, the risk of injury higher.

  The odds of a truly crippling injury were low at a tournament like this, but he worried that the wounds such a defeat might leave on his friend would last longer than the months his body would take to heal.

  But he had wanted this.

  He had chosen this path to test his resolve, so all Bao could do now was wait and watch and hope.