Year 663 of the Stable Era,

  Twenty-second day of the eleventh month

  Even later that night

  Thankfully, Chao Ren was spared the ignominy of reliving his most embarrassing fight of the day as the waitress arrived with the first of their orders just in time. She explained the sections of the orb that controlled the jade slip as Lee Han doled out soup, and the image soon shifted to the start of the second round.

  This time he recognized one of the combatants; Lu Ri from his penultimate round and a thin disciple from the Profound Depths Sect. The dark robe of the guest cultivator revealed its true hue in motion, a deep midnight blue so dark that it only slightly separated itself a shade from black when light managed to penetrate its thinnest sections.

  Their technique was an odd one. Part movement, part martial, it seemed to make use of a thin coat of water to deflect attacks and speed up their steps with subtle slides. It clung to them like an extra robe, catching the light like bands of fat bulbous stars over the night sky.

  It shuddered when Lu Ri’s mismatched blades made contact, the sharpened steel sliding off as it failed to find purchase. Direct blows seemed no better at combatting it, as even sweeping kicks seemed to only slightly stagger the Profound Depths’ disciple as he let the cushioned impacts carry him.

  Eventually, and inevitably, Lu Ri managed to find a flaw in the technique. He let his chain slip wider and wider with subsequent casts, until at last it had enough slack to snare the Profound Depths’ disciple by the leg. From there he made short work of them, the chain tightening in a series of nooses as their technique crumbled.

  “A very clean fight,” Bailong Shen noted, as Min Huan clapped. Like Shen, he seemed to have arrived late to the matches, though it was more the result of his complicated love life than a preponderance of sect responsibilities. “An excellent example of skill overcoming technique, all without expending too much of his own qi in the process.”

  “Quick too,” Lee Han added, slurping enthusiastically. “Barely took a moment to figure it out after the first few exchanges. And then he had it.”

  The two began to theorize about the specific water technique that the Profound Depths Sect’s disciple had studied as the image jumped to the start of the next round. Chao Ren felt his chest clench as they started to analyze the new fight between mouthfuls, remembering his own second round opponent.

  It had been about as quick as Lu Ri’s, but far less impressive. There was no subtlety or cleverness, or even particularly much skill. His opponent had practically ended the fight on their own, effectively running into his staff on their own by the end of it.

  A slightly embarrassing win, even if his opponent got the worst of it.

  He turned his attention towards his bowl, keeping his head down as he waited for it to pass. Thankfully the others barely noticing as it when it did, far more interested in the matches it was wedged between; a tight victory for an Imperial Blade Scholar and a devastating loss by a heron guai from the Thousand Grain Pavillion, whose plant technique backfired when his pouch of seeds erupted into full bloom around him. That did a little to assuage the unease in his gut, but the sensation only redoubled as the next round began.

  It was a slight, cloying sensation. As though something was eating at him just as readily as he partook of the meal spread out before him.

  Slowly at first.

  Slight nibbles and tentative, tasting chews. But as it grew, it redoubled, turning to great gobblely bites that chased after his own appetite. Matching him mouthful for mouthful as he tried to distract himself with the banquet before him.

  But no matter how much he tried to ignore it or fill it, the feeling kept nagging at him. Not shame, or inadequacy, or despair. None of those familiar worried emotions he’d felt plagued by so often in the past. Not even something as fiery as distress or chilling as grief.

  Something new.

  Something ravenous. That seemed to steal the taste from his mouth with every bite. That filled his bones with a tension that grew and grew with every word he drank in. He barely noticed as the second round slipped into the third, and then the third into the fourth, too busy chewing tasteless rice into tasteless paste.

  As the matches passed the feeling worsened, that unavoidable unease rising with each fight only to crash down upon him with each of his companion’s words, as relentless as waves upon the shore. Striking at his heart with their casual praise and carefree exuberance. Their sincerity sharpening them more harshly than dismissal or disdain could hope to match.

  Not that they needed to. He was already more than aware of his own failings, the power of hindsight and comparison the four walls of the barrier provided already informing him of the true inadequacy of his own performances. The time between his matches turned to dread, his hours of anticipation having seared his round order firmly into his mind.

  “Ah, good move there! Just you really managed to get the jump on him with that one.”

  “What a movement technique! It’s almost hard to track him even like this!”

  “I almost thought that it was over there. I dropped my cup when Ren took that hit.”

  “Ah, what a bluff! Roping him in like that while going for the kill! Almost like you used to, ey Bao-kun?”

  “Shut up Huan! I told you to stop calling me that!”

  “Nerves of steel, with control to match. Well done.”

  Chao Ren watched himself stagger off the stage, a cup of tea almost shaking in his hands. There was barely a break before he watched himself emerge again, the formatting of the jade slip cutting past the moments of his desperate recovery. Past Lu Ri’s fight, which was so quick that it barely felt like a breath, disappearing faster than he could finish his cup of wine. He watched his opponent Yuze Lim bow, a sigh slipping out as he watched the plant cultivator fill his hands with seeds in preparation for the fight.

  Another tight fight, and another round of insincere praise.

  Words about how he managed to limit his qi use. How he’d used refined basics to overcome their unpolished technique. How he’d used the weak to defeat the strong, or however Bailong Shen had put it. How his rough performance had managed to do it again.

  Words…

  Words words words words words.

  It felt like he was drowning under them.

  Barely able to breath without more filling his lungs, the sensation crushing him from both within and without.

  He barely paid attention as his past self burned the roots from his staff, Lee Han toasting another round of victory even as the waitress heaped yet more spirit food on their table. Plump crab, practically bursting with qi—its fair flesh clung to his tongue, dry as sawdust and as stiff as wax. He watched himself enter the stage again, as distant from that moment as the one he was a part of.

  Bailong Shen said something about his second attack. Something about a bold attempt to seize the initiative, and striking while the iron was hot. Lee Han made a joke about the spiciness of the crab, sparking a laugh from Bao and Li Lee as Chao Ren felt something inside himself creak.

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  A slight shift, of something slipping out of place. Like old planks in the heat of summer.

  He stood, his cup clattering loudly against the table as he did.

  “I need to step out,” he said, more to himself than anyone else as he stepped past the barrier. Lu Ri’s translucent chains offered no resistance as he passed through them, the barrier barely rippling in his wake.

  “The washroom’s on the left,” Bailong Shen called after him, the sound quickly fading as he found himself once again in the odd quiet of the restaurant. He hadn’t noticed it much at first when he’d entered, distracted as he’d been with the dragon’s explanation, but the sounds of the various tables were subdued. Barely a whisper slipping from each, despite the occupants’ clear and exuberant joy at their various activities.

  Drinking, brawling, carousing—they all seemed too happy enjoying their own festivities to pay any mind to those around them.

  He wove past the contained chaos of the main hall, barely noticing that the receptionist had switched to slicing peppers as he hurried past the door.

  Outside the mountain air was cool against his skin, its stony qi filling his lungs as he finally felt himself take the deep breath that he hadn’t known he was missing. It was calming, to just take in its qi as he centered himself, allowing himself to focus on the feel of the flow of the elements swirling through his dantian. Twisting, turning, all along their familiar dance. A certainty of five parts, all constant in their coexistence.

  With a sigh, he breathed out, the sound soft in the silence. Until fireworks crackled in the distance, lighting the darkened sky with patches of bright chrysanthemums and dandelions. The sounds of festivities that were being enjoyed by their revelers. The sounds of excitement harsh and unwelcome.

  The darkness of the bamboo grove beckoned. Its tall stalks promising shelter from the bright light and sounds. Chao Ren sighed as he took another breath, making his way along a half-familiar path as he tried to grapple with the thoughts flowing through his head.

  Why?

  Why?

  Why?!

  Why was he so…bothered?

  Unhappy? That was a word for it, but far too imprecisely. An attempt at describing that feeling eating at him that barely grazed its surface.

  No, it was deeper than that. He was angry! Infuriated! Vexed! Just entirely, utterly, absolutely…dissatisfied?

  Dissatisfied? Why? How?

  He’d won, hadn’t he?

  Done better than he’d wanted. Than he’d expected, even.

  First place in his bracket, with more spirit stones than he’d ever had, and so many other prizes to boot.

  So why was he just so…gah! He couldn’t even get this right! Why was he such a failure! He should know better than this! Should have done better!

  A stalk of bamboo cracked as he punched it, bright yellow wood revealing itself as the plant split in half.

  “GAAAGH!!!”

  That was it! He could have done better, couldn’t he?

  If he’d trained harder, if he’d studied longer—with a bit more diligence, he could have bridged that gap. Made up for his own inadequate lack of understanding. Pushed himself harder at that last crucial moment. Just been…better.

  Another bamboo split, and then another, as he felt himself gaining clarity.

  Lu Ri, the paperman, the ant; they’d all spent years developing their martial talent. Refining their skills to the utmost to stand where they were. If he’d just worked harder, used the time he’d had more carefully, he could have matched them. If he’d just made use of his own talent, cultivated it just as diligently instead of wasting it, he could have—

  “Hey, are you alright?” a voice called. Chao Ren turned, coming face to face with Bao’s worried expression. His fellow disciple was bright in the bamboo grove, a paper lantern that almost matched his flushed face in one hand and a jar of wine in the other. “I figured that you needed a moment to yourself, but it’s been a while, so I figured that someone should check to see that you were doing alright. And not passed out from pain or something. So, uh, are you? Alright, that is?”

  “I’m…fine,” Chao Ren said, finding a seat on a small boulder as he gathered his composure. How much had he witnessed? Of him just standing out here, in his current…state?

  “Ah, that’s good,” Bao said sympathetically, patting him on the back as he took a spot next to him. He seemed to believe his deception as he jabbed the lantern’s stick into the ground, taking a moment to ensure that it would stay standing before he let it go. “First tournaments, ey? They sure can be something, huh.”

  “Mhm,” Chao Ren responded, exhaling a long, quiet breath through his nose as he calmed himself.

  “You know, I still remember the first one I was in. It was during the Bone Festival, if I remember right. Oh, that’s a Wailing Coast tradition, by the way. Every year after the Winter Solstice all the villages and towns along the bones hold a big celebration, to drive off ghosts and raise everyone’s spirits. Food, drinks, games, and all that. And there’s always at least one or two little tournaments for the kiddies. Somewhere that they can work off a little bit of the winter blues while giving their parents something to brag about for a bit as they drink.”

  “Anyways, I remember that that year I was supposed to make my debut as a cultivator. Not particularly exciting, really. With so many cultivators among the founding families, the potential’s always run a bit thick. Main reason we have two tournies for the kids, really. But anyways”—he paused to take a sip from his jar, which Chao Ren graciously accepted when he was offered it in turn—"that year I’d just reached the Qi Gathering phase. Which made it my second, since I’d entered the Body Tempering phase that summer.”

  “I was real stoked to fight that year, since there was only like…seven other kids entering, and I was pretty sure that I’d been able to kick their asses with my martial arts.”

  “And did you?” Chao Ren asked, curious to see where this meandering tale was going in its attempt to comfort him.

  “Hells no,” Bao laughed, slapping his side.

  “Gah!”

  “Ah! Sorry about that!” He furiously began to pat Chao Ren as he winced, as if the constant application of soft force would somehow heal the sore muscle he’d hit. “I’m really, really, so sorry about that. Anyways, no, I didn’t win. Min Huan kicked my ass.”

  “He was one of those kids that hit their growth spurt early and then just never stopped. All that body cultivating he does didn’t help either. He’d already started on the Boulder Shifting Manual by that point, and I think he was up to like small logs by that point. Anyways, he was insufferable about that for a month afterwards. Just a complete ass. Wouldn’t let me forget about it until he got rejected by Jin Mei cuz his hair was weird or something.”

  Chao Ren stared at his friend, unsure what he was supposed to think.

  Was that supposed to have made him feel better? Was there some sort of deeper lesson to it that he was just missing?

  “Anyways,” Bao continued, “the point is that it sucks to lose. Especially if your friend’s an asshole to you about it.”

  He took a sip from his wine as he finished, clearly satisfied with himself.

  “Thank you,” Chao Ren said, as he accepted the jar for a second sip. It had cooled considerably over the course of Bao’s story, and was much more enjoyable for it. “So, was there supposed to be a lesson in that? That that defeat taught you to grow stronger so that you won the next time you two fought?”

  “Nah,” Bao laughed. “I’d like to think that I came a bit closer the next year, but he still just kicked my ass again. He was just as dedicated to his body cultivation back then as he is now, so I really didn’t have a chance even if my martial arts were a smidge better. Our record got a bit closer over the years, but I think he’s still in the lead by a few.”

  “So then what’s the point?”

  “Of what? Fighting him? Practice mostly.”

  “No, of your story. Was it supposed to cheer me up or something? Because it just…didn’t.” It felt uncharacteristically blunt to just say that aloud, but the wine and his own personal frustrations seemed to be a powerful combination.

  “Oh, it wasn’t really,” Bao said, waving his hand. “Losing sucks, and it’s hard to just say ‘feel better’ and expect that to fix anything. Cuz it doesn’t really. You just gotta feel those feelings for a while, you know, until they start bothering you less.”

  “But you still gotta just pick yourself up at the end of the day and see it as a learning experience. Cuz if losing is good for one thing, it’s teaching you what you’re missing. Unless you lose because of clear dumb luck, in which case it really doesn’t teach you shit. Wait—or was it that you’re supposed to learn to just generally get better at everything? So that you don’t get into the position where you need luck to win again. I can’t remember which. But either way, I guess you sorta learn something from it, so that’s still helpful. That’s the best I can think of at the moment. Maybe ask me again tomorrow.”

  Learn what you’re missing.

  Despite their slight slurring, there was certainly wisdom in his friend’s words. A point, however dulled by wine and nostalgia.

  If he was going to improve as a cultivator he would need to build up what he lacked. Physique, qi, techniques; he would need to work twice as hard at each, to ensure that he would never be caught lacking again.

  He’d need to redouble his attention, of course. Shave away idle moments to fully dedicate himself to his cultivation. He’d already paid the cost of his own inaction once, and he would be sure to get full value for the lesson he had bought.

  “Thank you, Bao,” he said, rising to his feet. “That was some truly good advice after all.”

  Practice. That was what he needed. To ensure that he didn’t fall short again. He’d have to wait for his body to recover before he could start to train again, but while it was he could still prepare in other ways.

  The Five Elements Unification manual was a start, but if he was going to master it he would need to spend more time in the library consulting similar texts to broaden his understanding. He’d need to study other techniques as well; both for his own development and to be prepared for what he might encounter in the future. His qi too would need training, so that his circulation would never falter the way it had again, and then there was the matter of a new weapon, to replace his now former staff…

  So much to do, and so little time. He began composing a list as he limped home, his mind ablaze with ideas that burned brighter than the pain of his tired body.