《Transmigration Blues》 Chapter 1: In medias finis Transmigration Blues The chamber was small, but well appointed. The floor was tiled with a mosaic of pattern near the doors and under the windows. Heavy wool curtains were pulled shut, letting only the faintest glimmer of light pass through. The shaded sun revealed a fine wooden desk, a wash basin and a luxurious four poster bed. Upon this bed, tangled in light cotton sheets, lay a still form. A handsome youth: with pale skin, elegant eyebrows and a strong angular face. Even in rest though, his expression was drawn, his forehead lined with unwillingness. Tracks of a few spilled tears could be seen on his cheeks. He did not move. Next to the bed lay a folding table holding a partially eaten meal, long gone cold. A bowl of rich soup, fats gelling on the surface, a few buns and a bowl of rice. A bun and a few bites of rice, perhaps a spoonful of the soup¡ª that was all that had been taken. The meal had lain so long now that insects had found their way to the plate, a few flies and a beetle. Like the figure on the bed they lay completely still, for these insects had much in common with the handsome youth. To give a simple example, like the youth the insects had eaten some of the meal on the tray, and then had proceeded to lie down, and die. Had one of the servants of the house had been present, then, they would have been startled into a faint when suddenly color blossomed on the young man¡¯s cheeks and he gave a hoarse gasp, fingers gripping the sheets like they were the only things keeping him from falling back into death. He moaned, clutching his stomach and then his ribs in pain, before coming fully aware, opening piercing black eyes to take in the chamber were he lay. ******* ¡°Ugghh¡­¡± ¡®God damn, what happened to me? I feel worse than that time those punks broke into the restaurant and kicked the shit out of me and Little Bai. I think I cracked a few ribs, someone did a number on my whole torso, and I feel dehydrated and sick to my stomach.¡¯ He opened his eyes, squinting in the gloom recognizing his room/not being able to place exactly where he was. The harsh dissonance of familiarity and strangeness played sourly in his aching mind. He was John Penn/Chu Feng, a cook and writer/the young master of the Chu family¡­ John/Chu clutched at his head and shuddered as the dual identities combatted for primacy. It was painful, disorienting and a bit macabre, but, eventually, John opened his eyes secure in his selfhood. He had the advantage over the vestiges of Chu Feng¡¯s personality in several ways, the first, and perhaps most important being that he ¡®wasn¡¯t fucking dead,¡¯ and secondly that he had a good twenty years of life experience over the child whose body he now apparently inhabited. ¡®Note to self, never binge drink and read Wuxia again.¡¯ John chuckled briefly to himself, before the pain in his¡­ everywhere made him gasp. Running his dry tongue over chapping lips, John turned his head to the ewer of water he ¡®¡­Chu Feng not me, Chu Feng¡­¡¯ had filled with fresh water every evening. Slow wincing steps brought John to the basin and water. Reaching over to heft the jug, John startled at the features reflected there-in. Again the juxtaposition of who he was and what he expected to look like sang in his mind, but he was able to push it aside over the practical desire to quench his thirst. John slopped water over the floor and himself in his haste, but to be fair this wasn¡¯t really designed for drinking out of. The water was just a bit cool, but fresh and earthy in a way John hadn¡¯t tasted in a long time. ¡®Well water,¡¯ John thought to himself. There was no flash of double recognition here. To Chu Feng this was just how water was. The dryness and the sour feeling in his stomach both began to ease, and, leaving a little less than a third of the large, heavy jar full, John made his slow way back to his bed. The tray of food made his stomach clench and his mouth water despite it looking quite stale. The fact that ¡®I/Ch/J/FUCK¡¯ the-young-man-who-was-no-more had eaten some of this final meal before passing on, as well as the dead insects ringing the food, let John resist the hunger that was gnawing steadily in his gut. John took a deep breath, winced, and then took a shallow breath instead. ¡®Pain and weakness rule out anything but the strongest of hallucinations¡ª the situation is real, embrace it, don¡¯t retreat into fantasy or denial. I need food and more water. I need to access these memories without losing myself. I need¡­ at least a week of healing, maybe a month for that floating rib on the left. I need to piss.¡¯ A dark chuckle escaped his lips and he muttered to himself. ¡°99 problems, but I can fix that one.¡± After locating the appropriate pot and taking care of business, a glimmer of a plan was building in his mind. John wanted more strength and rest before attempting to wrestle with his identity, so a quick check for more food and drink was ideal. His glance into the courtyard had revealed a classical Chinese mansion, and the positioning of his room showed that the original occupant held quite a bit of status. There would usually be a small kitchen and a few other rooms in this wing if the layout held true to his previous experiences. John eased the thin wooden door open, and listened. The hall was silent. He stepped carefully out of his room, silently making his way towards the back of the dwelling. He passed small sitting room and dining area, and saw a small doorway off to the side of that room. This led to a servant¡¯s passage that at last ended in the small kitchen he¡¯d sought. The stove was cold and when he checked the fire box, not even an ember was lit. Shrugging his shoulders, John took a quick inventory. A jar of rice, dried herbs bundled, vinegar, a small brick of sugar, flour¡­ aha! A jar of brined eggs and another of sweet wine. A handful of walnuts rounded out the meal, but not before John found a whole smoked fish that was in the pantry. Carrying his bounty back to his room, John still encountered no one, which was starting to be just a tad bit fishy. He shook his head and focused on moving without aggravating his wounds. John tossed the (probably) poisoned leftovers into the chamber pot, then stacked his eclectic breakfast on the folding table. Comfortably full and only the slightest bit tipsy, John refilled the ewer from the small well in his courtyard, drank, washed, and changed into simple pair of white silk pants and a black, comfortable, if somewhat tight, center fastened shirt. John did a few light stretches for his legs and arms, before retreating to bed and lying on top of the blankets. With the base needs satisfied to the best of his ability, John relented and let the piece of his mind that was panicking and spinning in circles get some attention. ¡®The last thing I remember was going to sleep last night¡­ then there was a noise, pressure, light, spinning, and suddenly I¡¯m waking up as a body snatcher. In a very nice pre-industrial Chinese style house. Where I have significant injuries and someone succeeded in offing my predecessor with a touch of poison and his own weakness. As much as the process troubles me, if I don¡¯t want to end up like this guy, I need to know what¡¯s going on, and that means tapping these memories.¡¯ John shifted around until he was as comfortable as he was going to get, then began to breathe in a slow, rhythmic pattern. He lay completely still, but his eyes could be seen moving under the eyelids, and his face showed micro-expressions, as if he was in the midst of an intense dream. Hours passed, and still no one came to check on the young man. The sun set, the moon rose. Stars shone, then were obscured as a light rain fell. Soon a gentle mist filled the air, and the clouds passed overhead. The first glow of dawn was driving away the mist when John¡¯s eyes darted open, taking in his surroundings. He had been successful in searching Chu Feng¡¯s memories. At first John had gotten only random scenes with no understanding; a beautiful woman held him and smiled joyfully, a stocky man with small white scars all over his body was correcting his posture during a punching routine, numerous children pointing at him and laughing as he lay in the dirt, sneers and catcalls of ¡®trash.¡¯ This last scene was connected to other encounters, and soon John had learned how to guide the memories. While outside his mind only a single night had passed, John had been able to skim through most of Chu Feng¡¯s life, and drawing on his experiences, John was able to understand the way this society functioned, his place in it, and his future prospects. John sighed, then cast his eyes in appeal to the heavens, ¡°Not that I¡¯m not grateful for surviving whatever happened to me with my consciousness intact, but couldn¡¯t I have ended up in a less clich¨¦ setting?¡± The heavens did not answer. ***** ¡°Status, inventory, help, menu, system activate¡­. I feel like such an asshole for even testing to see if that would do anything.¡± John was sitting on the edge of his bed, picking over some of the food he''d scavenged the previous day. ¡°Still,¡± John continued to think out loud, ¡°I thought transmigration was equally absurd two days ago so it was better to check. There are no treasures or strange stone medallions, so it looks like Chu Feng doesn¡¯t have a ¡®mysterious¡¯ inheritance. He is the main branch heir, and his mother did disappear suddenly last year with no explanation from his father, so that trope means some uber clan will want me dead later. Daddy dearest got himself killed hunting demon beasts with Uncle Pang, and looking at my situation here that was clearly an assassination. I¡¯m approaching my majority in a few years, I have 4 cousins with better martial skill than me, but¡­ heh at least Chu Feng isn¡¯t really trash, he was cultivating a high purity qi condensing art, and in a few months would have reached a tipping point where he¡¯d start to show the dividends of his hard work¡­ of course with his dantian cracked like a tea egg half of that cultivation was lost. Ugh¡­. Aren¡¯t I supposed to have something as a transmigrator to make me peerless under the heavens? There are apparently medicines and Spirit arts that can heal my dantian, but Uncle won¡¯t put out any money for me. I have 20 taels of silver, which means¡­ fuckall, its basic pocket money, not enough to do anything with.¡± John paused in his rambling and re-examined that last statement, before ruefully shaking his head and continuing. ¡°Heh, more than a peasant earns in months and I¡¯m scoffing, I guess I¡¯ve assumed my role as the ¡®Young Master Chu¡¯ pretty quickly. Come on, there has to be something left to me I can use¡­¡± John screwed his face in concentration until¡­ It is late at night, and Father is showing me a spot on the corner of my new writing desk. He pushes hard and a piece of wood sinks in, pushing out a small drawer. Father¡¯s smile is weird as he puts a pouch in the drawer. ¡®Heh heh, son you are too studious and focused on cultivation. Without widespread experience you will find the Dao elusive, you need to have fun more. Still, Father is watching out for you. When you are a young man you will face many trials, and it may not be proper for me to step in. At that time, remember this drawer, I have set something aside to ensure you stay high spirited.¡± A smile bloomed on John¡¯s face as he quickly made his way to the writing desk in the corner, pressing on the spot he¡¯d seen in his memory. With trembling fingers he opened the pouch and poured the contents onto the table: a medicinal pill, a goldnote worth ten taels, and low quality memory jade. John quickly put the jade to his forehead, allowing the memory to play in his mind. He swayed and almost fell¡­ Chu Feng¡¯s father had been wasted when he made this. The unfocused consciousness almost made him throw up, but he pushed through it to the message. ¡°Ah, son¡­ he he you are almost 11, soon you will become a man. With your aloof and studious nature, how will you attract any girls before you¡¯re twenty? Go to the street of Night Blooming Jasmine and find a few girls, one won¡¯t be enough for MY son, heh heh¡­¡± John was at once disgusted, amused, and a little jealous. His own family had died when he was young, and his foster family had been supportive but emotionally distant. John wished he¡¯d had such a silly, doting father, even if he was a gregarious fool who was too trusting in the end. John moved to pull the jade from his forehead when it flickered back into activity. ¡°Oh, and if you haven¡¯t gotten that stick out of your butt yet, there is a cultivation method for this that will increase your aptitude and fortify your dan tian¡­ just channel qi through the Chongmai, and both yin and yang Qiao Mai when you, heh heh, erupt. The girl must be a virgin, and its best if she has not cultivated. This can only be used for your first time, it has no effect once the vital yang is exhausted. Don¡¯t feel like you are taking advantage, you will burn some of your lifespan to prolong her youth and the purity of her skin, while you fuse her vital yin into your soul and nurture your dantian. Heh heh¡­ have fun son. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll cover for you with your mother if you spend a night out suddenly. He he, its good to have a son¡­¡¯ John¡¯s face was half sneer and half fond laughter. No need to guess the nature of the pill then, it was certainly a mild aphrodisiac. John paused, and then shook his head with a snort. He¡¯d consider the matter after he cleared house for a bit.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. His servants were compromised, so he couldn¡¯t trust them to manage his courtyard. ¡®I need to figure out if I can stay safely in the Chu compound, or if I should try to disappear. Uncle seems to want to rely on plausible deniability, he had stooges from the Li clan infuriate then ¡®spar¡¯ with me in an attempt to cripple my cultivation, mostly successfully. I imagine I was supposed to ¡®lose the will to go on¡¯ after that and succumb to ¡®internal injuries¡¯ helped along by the poisons in my dish. He had the wing emptied of people so I could waste away, he¡¯ll likely kill the servants as scapegoats and then his sons will be the new main branch heirs. There is some supervising authority here that¡¯s making him pay attention to the formalities in not directly killing me off¡­ but who or what is it?¡¯ After considering Chu Feng¡¯s memories of the political situation in the clan and the city in general, John snapped his fingers and muttered, ¡°Of course. The Prefectural Governor and the City Lord. Chu Feng¡¯s horny old goat of a father was on decent terms with them through judicious use of bribes. Uncle¡­ Chu Feng¡¯s Uncle¡­ would need to match or exceed those, not difficult with the small spirit vein the Chu family owns, but would go against the insular politics he¡¯s advocating, which are really just an excuse to pour resources on himself and his children, as well as those of the elders supporting him.¡± John began to pace slowly across the room. Before he¡¯d made a full circuit, John felt his steps shorten then lengthen in a strange pattern, his steps falling naturally into a series of fluid, yet chaotic footwork. A moment¡¯s reflection revealed that this was the Breaking Waves movement technique that Chu Feng had practiced into his bones. John shook some of his apprehension over the lack of control he was experiencing, and let the movements of his body take over, a small smile erasing the brooding face that had rested there since his awakening. John felt the potential these steps had created, a coiled force that needed but the final motion of his qi to unleash. As easily as acknowledging it a rope of Chu Feng¡¯s pure qi surged through John as he sprang forward with the speed and force of the ocean, laughing in pure exhilaration as he found himself on top of his courtyard wall some hundred yards away, a sheen of sweat shining on his forehead. ¡°Holy fuck¡­ that was incredible!¡± John had intellectually known that he was in a cultivator¡¯s world, and while he had seen similar things in Chu Feng¡¯s memories, he hadn¡¯t really experienced them, only viewed them at a remove. The rush of his body moving in sequence with spirit and will, to achieve the very limits of nature¡­ John was faint from the exertion and lost qi. After carefully maneuvering into his room, John once again lay on his bed, and this time, he tried to cultivate. In the center of his being was cavernous well. Within, a blindingly pure white qi, thin as threads of silk, swirled together in the center. This was his dantian, and that was the source of his cultivation, the qi spiral. Using the cultivation art he¡­Chu Feng had chosen from his father¡¯s secret library, the Thousand Petal techniques, John chanted the mnemonic while he shifted some¡­ thing inside of himself that somehow encouraged the energy of the heavens and earth to start seeping into his dan tian. A huge tide of cloudy smoke and fog rushed into Johns inner self, but at the last second he held it back from his qi spiral. He remembered from Chu Feng¡¯s memories that if he wanted to be completely sure of reaching immortality, he couldn¡¯t just absorb the raw energy, but instead work and process the energy into its purest form. This refining was Chu Feng¡¯s original idea after a sudden insight on the nature of qi. Most, if not all, cultivators initially focused on harvesting as much unrefined energy as possible, to drive their martial arts and condition their bodies. Instead of the luminous pure qi Chu Feng possessed, theirs would be a dull or milky rope of energy that could be used very quickly. Lacking a large volume of energy was why, though Chu Feng possessed good comprehension and a talent for martial arts, he was called ¡®trash.¡¯ His peers could lift 200 pound urns over their heads by the time they hit 11, so what if Chu Feng¡¯s strikes were precise when he had only a natural boy¡¯s strength? But Chu Feng persevered, because his goal was to be an ultimate cultivator, a true immortal, to surpass even the Xiantian realm, to develop a Nascent Soul, to reach what no one in this tiny kingdom had achieved before, and enter, or even surpass, the Dao Origin stage. And for that goal he would need incomparably pure qi. Oh one can refine the body and temper the meridians after the impurities of the world inhabit them, but you can¡¯t remove them all without godly medicines or some fortunate encounter. As the heir of a well-established clan, Chu Feng felt his foundation was sturdy enough to endure early weakness. He only discussed his plan with his father, Chu Chang, who had immediately told Chu Feng that he was the least fun child in the kingdom, if not the world, but as his father he would cherish and support him in all things. Since 8 years old cultivation had been his entire world, hours spent refining the thinnest and purest qi threads in his qi spiral, his speed increasing slowly but noticeably year by year, until now he was cultivating at a similar pace to his peers when they¡¯d first started. By next year, he¡¯d be only half as slow as his peers for qi hundreds of times more refined. In two years he would surpass them all. Well, if he hadn¡¯t died. With a shaky foundation and no proof of his prowess, Chu Feng was being maneuvered out of inheriting the clan, denied resources, and then provoked into an uneven fight with a vicious opponent. With these reflections in mind, and not enough understanding of his situation to change cultivation menthods, John would need to tease out the nearly subatomic particles of unaspected qi and condense them into his qi spiral if he wanted to follow Chu Feng¡¯s plan. Johns first few attempts were like trying to grip smoke, but at last he was able to interpret his memories and properly flex the new spiritual muscles he possessed. The qi was obviously psychoreactive in some way, the stronger his visualization the better and quicker it responded. Here was where his experiences from Earth gave him a leg up over Chu Feng. John had seen time lapse videos of crystals forming, industrial polymer creation, winnowing machines; a hundred thousand examples to draw on. Chu Feng¡¯s experiences were much more limited. Soon John¡¯s mental constructs were scooping through the energy of heaven and earth like a whale sieving for krill. Next he had to force these disparate particles into a unit that would rest in his dantian. The idea of the ¡®qi spiral¡¯ and ¡®threads of qi¡¯ were so fundamental to this mindscape that John would need to work with those metaphors if he didn¡¯t want to scrap everything, and he saw no benefit to doing so yet. He chose instead to flex the idea a little and use the concept that the little pieces of qi he was holding in his mental hands were like flecks of metal, and with the pressure of his consciousness they became molten and self adhering. One last skim of the energies for any residual dross and the result was a portion of pure qi that he could just slip into his¡­ ¡®FUCK!¡¯ John screamed inside his mind as the laboriously gathered qi failed to merge with his spiral and scattered back to the primordial mists. After glaring at his qi spiral in betrayal for a few moments John once again revisited Chu Feng¡¯s memories of cultivation to see where he¡¯d gone wrong. Another eternity later John was slowly impressing his sense of self on his refined qi and forcefully merging the newly gathered energy into the spiral, letting out a small sigh of relief as the process seemed somewhat self sustaining once started. John was nearly spent, but felt that he could continue for a bit more. He now had a more or less complete understanding of the process, and from Chu Feng¡¯s memories and his own experience he would be able to relax from his total mental focus and control to just go with the flow. However John soon found that this was not the case. The second his iron focus slipped from any part of the action the qi would seep away, drawn by some invisible force to the edge of his dantian, where instead of resting against the surface it leaked out through the million fractures he now saw lining it. With a trouble sigh John let go of his cultivation. He could still refine qi, but his dantian couldn¡¯t hold the energy he was absorbing from the world. Any energy not immediately grasped by his spiritual consciousness would simply seep away, causing a lot of redundancy of effort as he gathered, refined a bit, gathered, then refined a bit more. His cultivation speed had been decimated, and it hadn¡¯t been quick to begin with. Hours of painstaking effort and he¡¯d regained half of what was lost to the movement technique he¡¯d used. John laughed at himself as he finished the last of the brined eggs he¡¯d found the day before. Here he was, injured and with someone plotting to take his life, and he¡¯d wasted most of the day on kungfu sorcery. Priorities, me! If I want to cultivate, do it while I¡¯m safe. Hell I can always just open a restaurant again, there¡¯s no need to be a cultivator!¡¯ That last thought, unfortunately, caused a vehement wave of dissonant denial to rise up from within. Cultivation was the entirety of his host¡¯s previous existence, and rejecting it would not be abided by his remnant. And, to be honest, the idea of living as a restaurateurin a world with super powers and might makes right philosophy didn¡¯t exactly appeal to John either. Fine! I¡¯ll need medicines and safety and,(thinking of the technique Chu Feng¡¯s father left) possibly a virgin sacrifice if I want to shore up my dantian and cultivate properly. I should either slip away from the compound for a while and try to drum up some support¡­ wait? Why am I letting tropes control my behavior? I don¡¯t give two shits about this clan! I should definitely just leave. Is there a way for ¡®Uncle¡¯ Pang to just let me off? Probably not, he did likely kill his half-brother. But if I leave a note abdicating my seat and run off they won¡¯t spend much effort trying to track me down. The young man sat on the bed in silence, contemplating his future, hazy afternoon slipping into twilight beyond his curtains. Slowly, a firm look of resolution came over his face, and he sprang from the bed, stopped, clutched his chest, cursed, and then walked carefully but firmly towards the writing desk. A few moments with brush and ink and a suitably maudlin letter was left for the next investigator. ¡°I have disgraced the clan¡­ blah blah¡­ not worthy of the name Chu¡­ will take my spirit to the beast forest to join my ancestors¡­ blah blah.. wash this disgrace with my own blood¡­. And done.¡± Next he made his way to the wash basin. John had noted a painfully sharp jade handled razor by the basin earlier and with minimum fuss began to shave his head, blithely hacking the luxurious curtain of thick black hair to the floor. When he was finished he carefully collected the hair in an old towel and hid it in his closet. He folded his finest clothes on his bed, along with a thick blanket and a beast leather coat, and then wrapped the bundle tightly in a sheet. Into a backpack he stored a writing desk and decent supply of paper, a few rougher changes of clothes that Chu Feng would wear for messy excursions or practicing, a spare set of sandals, and all the few books, scrolls and Memory Jades in his possession. Taking another look in the mirror, John decided against attempting to further disguise himself with his limited supplies. The haircut and adopting the hurried, bowed posture of a servant would suffice. Now came the most difficult part of his plan. After resolving to leave the Chu estate Ch¡­ John would need some resources to support himself in his journey. As luck would have it, Chu Feng¡¯s father had taken his son into his private library in the main building before leaving on that ill-fated hunting trip six months ago. Perhaps he had a premonition, for Chu Change had shown the lad a secret panel behind a calligraphy scroll on the east wall. Chu Chang had not cataloged the contents, but simply said that in an emergency these were his personal resources, and that Chu Feng should feel free to help himself. Chu Chang had personally installed the safe, and was rather proud of all his little secret compartments. If John was ever to return to the compound, he would scour it with a fine tooth comb, as he was sure he would find little caches all over the place, but that safe was his goal tonight. John initially considered approaching one of the clan elders that wasn¡¯t visibly in Chu Pang¡¯s pocket, but had rejected the idea as too risky. He would instead leave his letter, grab some funds and slip out the gate, and hopefully be well shod of the whole business and get on with his new life as a Super Saiyan... er¡­ cultivator. The gates would be sealed just after sunset, and no one would worry over a servant with a pack and a bundle to deliver on his head. John just needed to get to the safe, scoop everything into the pack, and then get gone. The family as a whole would be heading to dinner when the gong sounded¡­ and as if on cue a resonant clash could be heard in the distance. John waited for 15 minutes before making his move. There was a covered stone walk connecting the branch complexes to the main building, and John could hear his host¡¯s relatives and servants converging ahead of him. When someone well-dressed was in the way he differentially stepped aside. As he had hoped, he became invisible when people saw a laborer, even one who could afford a better cut of material. John got one or two odd looks from the servants, and he thought a cousin frowned at him contemplatively, but John made it to the study without issue. A quick check saw it empty and unlit. Faint red rays illuminated the scroll he remembered, giving him enough light to make his snatch and grab without sparking a¡­ ¡®Oh they used a glowing stone here for that. Neat.¡¯ John eased the door closed then made his way to the painting, pocketing a glow stone from its paper lantern in the process. John snorted as he read the scroll, ¡®this old man had been a character.¡¯ It read- ¡°The four treasures of the study: brush, ink, paper, inkstone.¡± This was a very common couplet both in this world and China. But putting your valuables behind a painting lauding simple scholarly tools and actually had the word ¡®treasure¡¯ in it was¡­ cute. John shrugged off his pack and hurriedly took the painting off the wall. His fingers danced along the pressure plates before he sent a quick surge of qi into the crystal behind the paneling. With a soft, almost unheard hum the formation concealing and protecting the nook turned off as the panel fell open on silent hinges. Not bothering to catalogue John just swept the contents into his bag, before freezing at the sight of a familiar knife wedged all the way in the back of the secret safe. ¡®Fat¡­ Chu Chang¡¯s spirit weapon!¡¯ A twinge of remorse ran through John¡¯s heart as he realized that if his predecessor¡¯s father had kept this weapon on him, he might not have died. It was a priceless artifact forged by a Xiantian level ancestor of the Chu Clan. It was peerlessly sharp and could channel qi and spiritual energies, and so could be used to carry out martial techniques. While John was unaware of the actual specifications of this dagger, most spirit weapons had at least an inscription of amplification added to them, magnifying the strength of their wielders to some degree. John quickly tucked the weapon into his sash. He¡¯d be able to wound even a peak Houtian expert with it, and it would be a worthy trump card so long as it was hidden. If it was known that he had it however¡­ carrying a treasure is a sin for the weak. John would have to be very careful. After closing the panel and rehanging the picture John turned to leave the study, when the paper door slid open suddenly with a crash, revealing¡­ one of his cousins, Chu Long, and a visiting friend of his from the Du clan whose name John couldn¡¯t dredge up at the moment. Chu Long sneered at him and was about to speak before he took a second look and recognition flashed across his face, followed by a dark chuckle and a look of distaste. ¡°Well Xiao Han, you were right. We definitely don¡¯t have any servants as suspicious as this in the compound. I however think young master Chu¡¯s attire is highly appropriate. What are you up to, trash? Practicing for your new role now that you¡¯ve been crippled?¡± ¡®So uncle has spread the word that I¡¯m a cripple now? This meshes well with my plans to disappear.¡¯ John put on an expression of exaggerated solemnity before saying, ¡°Truly I have brought myself and the clan dishonor, and am taking my leave of the clan to fight the spirit beasts that took my father, until I too am no more. In this way my blood shall wash my shame. I will offer this last service to the clan though. Cousin, be less impulsive in the future. Instead of trying to make a name of yourself by attempting to find a spy or thief on the compound, bring suspicions to an elder. What would you have done if you¡¯d found one here tonight anyway? They would have likely had cultivation equal to or stronger than yours, within an empty hall to dispose of you in.¡± John enjoyed the small flash of chagrin as the boy realized that he should have told someone where he was going before chasing a hunch. While John thought most of these clan kids were thoughtless and annoying, he didn¡¯t hold a grudge over it. Chu Long was just a child, cruel and uncivilized, aping the actions of his elders and peers to get along. ¡°I see you understand. I¡¯m done here. I¡¯ve another errand before I begin my pilgrimage, good night cousin Long, Du Han.¡± Holding in a smirk at the respectful gaze of Du Han and Chu Longs conflicted expression, John walked straight backed without the demeanor of a servant as he passed towards the door, hoping he¡¯d judged the situation right¡­ then let out a soft sigh as a strangely heavy palm grasped his shoulder and spun him from the door. ¡°Did I say that you could leave? Hmph, wasting I, your father¡¯s time with your false piety and waste of a self, still lecturing me while a cripple¡­ I¡­I¡¯ll let you off if you kowtow and admit your wrongs!¡± Du Han looked uncomfortable and Chu Long was clearly having some small doubts about continuing to bully John. Chu Feng would have been furious, and been close to coughing up blood, but John just rolled his eyes and complied, wincing at how the movement¡¯s pulled at his injuries, saying ¡°I was wrong,¡± while letting his head smack audibly to the planking on the floor, before quickly rising striding purposefully to the exit. ¡®Based on the dumbfounded looks I¡¯ve got about a 10s before¡­¡¯ the sound of hurried steps from the interior proved his guess correct. With a sigh for the waste, John chose a spot behind some bushes near the west gate, and cycled his qi into the Wave Breaking Steps. When the door opened onto where he¡¯d last stood his cousin and hanger on could only blink in surprise at the empty courtyard, before hustling off to dinner and to share the new gossip about the suicidal and shameless Chu Feng. A sweaty and pale faced servant soon hurried through the gates under the bored gaze of the guards, who quickly began to close the doors to the Chu estate and made their way, joking, to the small guard house for a drink and a game of dice. Chapter 2: The power of lists. (Two Weeks Later) John let the battered clay mug of weak wine clatter on the table with a sigh of contentment, before mopping his bowl with a morsel of steamed bun. His sigh turned into a discreet belch which he embarrassedly tried to hide in his hand, scanning the cozy common room with wild eyes before ducking his head. He¡¯d been staying at this inn for two weeks consolidating his cultivation and waiting for his injuries to heal. He had been pleasantly surprised to find most of his injuries half healed the morning of his escape, and, after buying some more appropriate trousers from a fripper, John had crossed most of the entire city before renting this room to continue his convalescence. The staff was friendly, the food surprisingly good for this economic and developmental period, and when he was vague about his story no one tried digging into his background. There was only one problem. ¡°Little brother Guo! I see you still love this big sis¡¯s cooking. I told you not to eat so fast. Also, is that your third bowl of wine? Aiya, you should have some nice warm water.¡± The words came from about 20 centimeters above the stunningly large bosom that was definitely on full display as the speaker leaned close over the low wooden table. John wouldn¡¯t know, as he was staring straight at his plate and not at all fighting the surge of hormones that tried to drag his traitorous eyes upward. John may be in a teen¡¯s body, but he was a grown ass man, and a nice pair of tits on a mischievious type who pushed all his buttons wouldn¡¯t have that sort of impact on him. In fact he knew the best way to stop this parade of harassment would be to take lecherous look, smirk and say something douchey. Then she¡¯d be tired of the game or just move straight to shilling for coin like any other service worker. Steeling his resolve once again John squared his shoulders and looked Mei Liang dead in the eye, then felt his eyes flutter over her body in jerky spasms as his face filled with blood and John felt like his heart would spasm out of his chest while he stuttered. ¡°N-nno need miss Mei¡­ I¡¯m fine.¡± ¡®God damn it body!¡± She smiled in delight at John¡¯s clear mortification, leaning in so close he could feel the heat of her breath grazing his ear, his body shivering and freezing in place, eyes focused on her cleavage as they willed the cleverly and well secured top to somehow let Liang¡¯s breasts pop free. ¡°Are you sure? And I told you don¡¯t be formal, call me big sis.¡± She leaned back and shimmied as she slowly asked ¡°Is there a-ny th-ing else this bi-ig s-is can do for her cute little brother Guo Jing?¡± ¡®Just say ¡°Stop being a tease and tell me your rate.¡± She¡¯ll either name one or be offended and then you¡¯ll be free!¡¯ ¡°I-I¡¯m f-f-fine big sis¡­¡± ¡®DAMN YOU CHU FENG! YOU DESERVED TO DIE FOR BEING SO USELESS AROUND WOMEN, AND DESERVE TO DIE AGAIN FOR IT BEING MEMETICALLY CONTAGIOUS!¡¯ ¡°Such a good little brother,¡± Mei Liang purred as she leaned over and pecked his forehead while grabbing his bowl and mug. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re all flush again. I wonder why?¡± The demoness had the gall to giggle as she walked his bowl to the kitchen before checking on the other guests. A scarred and disheveled drunk looked at John with such withering disgust that the flush and waves of embarrassment/arousal actually faded under a new and fascinating blushing wave of shame/self-hatred. It had become more and more evident in the time since his transmigration that John had gotten more than memories from his new body. Along with Chu Feng¡¯s iron ambition to become a peerless cultivator, John also had crippling social anxiety outside of martial settings. It was hard to notice when simply reviewing the memories, as Chu Feng was a cultivation nut as well as a social outcast so he rarely actually had contacts that didn¡¯t relate to cultivation. This social weakness was, fortunately, trainable and resolving it had quickly climbed to number three on his list of priorities, just under becoming a martial arts super god and survival. Fortunately, John knew enough amateur psychology and social engineering to overcome this block. It just took repetition. John took in the pitying look the innkeep was giving him and sighed again. Painful, painful repition. ****** Walking at three quarter speed up the narrow stairs to the second landing, John returned to his room. While more reminiscent of a monk¡¯s cell than a hotel room, it had a soft pallet, a table with wash bowl, a trunk to put his belongings in and thick latches on the shutters and doors. He had given his next steps considerable thought during his stay, and had come up with a list of short and long term goals that could be roughly reduced to two points.
  1. Get gud.
  2. Live well.
The baggage of John¡¯s soul for two and the sheer joy he experienced having access to what was basically muscle wizardry made practicing cultivation and learning more about the various cultivation adjacent professions a must. The additional lure of possible immortality was also very hard to ignore. That said, there was no reason to be ascetic while doing so. In fact, there were several ¡®daos¡¯ of excess listed in Chu Feng¡¯s memories, and while John had no interest in becoming an avatar of one of the seven sins, his main goal in his previous life had been to put in a lot of work early so he could basically do what he was going to do now: travel, learn about other cultures and their histories, increase his network of friends, have lots of sex and just generally enjoy his life without having to worry about ending up trying to find work at 70 while eating Fancy Feast and crackers from his 10 dollar a week social security check. John had owned a middling successful restaurant called Fusion that was a simple conceit on basic Americana and East Asian flavor profiles. He¡¯d started out with three staff and 150 hour work weeks and over the past 5 years had finally gotten to the point where it was pretty much self-supporting and he only needed to monitor that standards were in place and waste and theft were low. Over the next year he had planned to train up his long-time assistant manager and drinking buddy to take over John¡¯s remaining duties while hitting the gym and getting ready for a vacation of epically Dionysian proportions. And then he¡¯d stroked out after drinking and reading wish fulfillment online serials. John remembered his first night in this hostel, where the pain, shock and paranoia his situation had generated had faded to the point that he could take a moment and just¡­ come to terms. (Flashback: OMGWTF) The heavy door latched shut behind him and John sighed in relief as he gingerly laid himself on the pallet provided with the room. Using his bundled clothes and blankets as a pillow he let the tension from the stress that had clenched every aching muscle his battered body had start to fade, now that his perfectly legitimate fear of being discovered and murdered could be set aside. He¡¯d left the Chu clan¡¯s region of the city that first night and waited out the dawn in a panicked fugue at the first inn he could find. After changing his clothes to match the general look of the populous, he had raced to the southern city gate as fast as he could hobble, and after some deliberation selected the place he was going to hole up and sort his shit. This inn was only one street off the main thoroughfare and seven blocks from the busiest city gate. It offered rooms for a silver tael a day and included two meals which made it affordable to the lower-middle class who were passing through or staying a short while on business, and not at all the sort of place you¡¯d expect an injured clan noble to be hunkering down in. (That it was also a fairly popular place to grab a meal and drink due to its stacked and boisterous cook and server would become apparent later in his stay, and would have factored positively, as he intended to listen for gossip to get a feel for the city while he convalesced, if she were not an unholy demon.) Unfortunately, that relaxation allowed the emotions he¡¯d been locking down in his hindbrain to jump out of his mental cellar and scream in his metaphorical ears. John¡¯s heart raced as nausea and cold sent shivers through him as feelings of helplessness and estrangement swirled with his fear and uncertainties. ¡®Everything had been on track. Sure it was a little boring at times but I had friends, entertainment, the beginnings of wealth and I was finally able to just relax and enjoy life. Now I¡¯ve got a death sentence, mental contagion and I¡¯ll never get to finish any of those stories on my bookmarks!¡¯ The realization that he would never have access to the internet again broke the last of the wall keeping tears at bay as weak sobs escaped his lips. (flashback end) ¡®Yes, I definitely handled my feelings in a mature and appropriately stoic and manly way, quickly showing my iron cultivators¡¯ will, and didn¡¯t spend two days moping and sleeping with no real plan and ignoring my hygiene.¡¯ Failing to fool even himself, John smiled wryly as he reviewed the small writing desk and the charcoal smudged work paper he had been outlining his plans on. The thick reed paper was covered in cracks but had the advantage of being sturdy enough that one could use a moist rag to clean as a palimpsest without wasting his supply of writing material. John thought best by writing and making lists, which was a shockingly wasteful and expensive habit in here and so he had limited himself to one broad sheet to work with. Chu Feng¡¯s memories and the few books he¡¯d smuggled out of the Chu compound had been carefully plumbed during his time here, and he had mapped out a course of action.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. John figured his ribs would be mildly tender but mostly healed up in another week. Once he was confident that light exercise wouldn¡¯t complicate his injury he was going to find a physician and get his dantian diagnosed. If there were a reasonable solution to his problem he would follow their advice. If not, some back of the napkin math had shown that he could still cultivate to the Xiantian level, but it would probably take him a good chunk of his lifespan and that would be as high as he reached, his potential spent. The churning nausea at confronting this possibility showed how his inner Chu Feng felt about the matter. He soothed this feeling by glancing at points three and four. Next was the problem of Chu Feng¡¯s relative weakness. Even non-cultivators would have much more robust physigues than him from absorbing minute traces of the abundant energy of the heavens and earth. Here John had made some pleasant discoveries. Chu Feng had planned to follow the Iron Body Sutra once he¡¯d caught up on qi absorption and quantity, a high grade body cultivation art that followed fairly intensive qi consumption to practice and showed dividends based on qi purity. Perfect if Chu Feng¡¯s plans had panned out but not ideal for John¡¯s current state¡­ or so it would appear on the surface. In addition to being a total body tempering art, the Iron Body Sutra used the opening of accupoints to basically force qi into the body at specific points to increase physical power. While there were long term benefits to be gained by opening accupoints in a particular sequence, so long as there wasn¡¯t a significant time lag these would be negligible. The orthodox method called for working from the core points to the lesser ones, but the heterodox methods were also described along with their consequences. And one such pattern started with the accupoints in the hand and feets, whose benefit was unleashing a cascade up the meridian pathways, releasing hundreds of minor accupoints in the limbs and potentially unsealing the higher meridians at the same time. The downside is he would be essentially pressure washing all the earthly impurities in his limbs up into his core meridian system, but the Sutra offered a solution to this as well. In the chapters on body tempering it was explained that the pure qi would bond to impurities and they could be expelled through following the base circulation method of the Sutra. If John were to combine these two aspects of the art he would be able to jumpstart his cultivation while giving himself a physical strength well above the average of his peers, all while laying the foundations for quicker future cultivation. Unlike in many of the web novels John had read in his previous life, there were no hard and fast levels in cultivation, only stages. In the initial stage you were like anyone else, just with more control over your energy. After collecting sufficient power in ones dantian one entered the Houtian stage, where you were still mortal, with a life span no more than a century, and your spiritual power muted, despite being capable of superhuman feats. Houtian was broken into stages based on qi accumulation and density, the vapor, liguid and core stages and were usually referred to as initial, middle, and late stage respectively. The transition to Xiantian required condensing a core while purging your body of sufficient mortal impurities and facing a lightning tribulation, where you would then develop a soul sign above the core according to one¡¯s cultivation method. This sign would transform into the Nascent Soul after another lightning tribulation at the peak of Xiantian, but Chu Feng¡¯s manual only went to low Xiantian and he¡¯d have to figure things out from there. What do any of those stages have to do with meridians and accupoints? Nothing and everything. In the end it all comes down to qi quantity and cycling, followed by purity. Thus the more channels to manipulate, gather and purify qi, the greater the potential of the cultivator and the speed of their advancement. Chu Feng was a noble from an established lineage with powerful parents, and it was no surprise that of the 12 normal meridians he had 8 freely flowing and only two that were fully blocked off. The extraordinary vessels showed minute openings to his internal senses, as well as five of the divergent meridians. Once this body was tempered it showed strong possibilities of having full access to its potential. Of course, there was a minor cost to all this development. John was going to basically tap 5 years of painstaking qi accumulation with a healthy dantian, as well as undergo what the texts euphemistically called the ¡®trial of the anvil.¡¯ After rereading the relevant passages a few times John was able to translate this as ¡®Oh gods, the pain, ahhhhh.¡¯ So, there was that to look forward to. John had also had another pleasant surprise while he had been cultivating. Apparantly his spiritual sense was much stronger than Chu Feng¡¯s had been before their merger. ¡®Transmigrator Perk Get!¡¯ John chuckled to himself as he mused that there were probably other benefits to being what he, in a fit of chunni-esque glee, labeled as twin souled. For now though it meant that even though he was effectively crippled, he could actually cultivate at a rate not too far behind what Chu Feng had accomplished, which meant, if he was correct, that after blasting his meridians and patching his dantian he would actually pull ahead of Chu Feng¡¯s initial goal by several years, jumping straight to the middle of initial Houtian in a matter of months. From there he would have the qi reserves to see if he had any talents for the spirit arts, and if his patchwork soul and rigid mental focus led to further benefits there. Next there was the Sacred Art that Chu Chang had imparted. The key phrase had been that it would ¡®nourish¡¯ his dantian. This same phrasing had been used in one of his herbal primers in reference to the properties of the Violet Chrysanthemum, a rare herb with strong yin properties that was an ingredient in a rarer still elixir that could restore a wasted cultivator¡¯s ability. John¡¯s inner Chu Feng vibrated with eagerness to jump straight into practice, but based on his performance with a flirty tavern worker, John didn¡¯t have much hope of practicing dual cultivation anytime soon. Best wait for the doctor¡¯s diagnosis. Lastly, and the real reason he was taking his ease instead of rushing to get some and get training, Feng¡¯e¡­John¡­ was filthy rich. (Flashback 2: the backflashening) After John had finished wiping down his body with warm water and the sliver of harsh soap he had purchased from the staff he felt refreshed, if somewhat hollow from the racking alienation, sorrow and fear he¡¯d been wallowing in the last few days. ¡®I¡¯m just going to blame all this on puberty and rewrite this episode as showing iron will and stoic manliness in the face of adversity when I pen my memoirs as God King of the Heavens.¡¯ John mused to himself as he doctored his battered pride, before grabbing the meat buns he¡¯d grabbed from a street vendor for his midday meal. ¡°All right,¡± he mumbled around a mouthful of rich gravy, ¡° as the Dread Pirate Roberts advises, lets catalog our assets. Never know when a wheelbarrow or a holocaust cloak will come in handy.¡± From his room he had Not a bad haul, he had the basics for the next few years and a few of his to sell items were worth gold so he could live in temporary lodging indefinitely if he was frugal. Annual expenses for being an itinerant cultivator with his needs (which were grossly inflated from two pampered lives) were well under three gold, possible miraculous wonder treatment for cracked dantian withstanding. ¡®Time to see what I daddy dearest left us.¡¯ John mused before dumping his pack on out onto his carefully brushed and folded fur blankets. The sounds of a yelp of surprise followed by strangled, then full blown coughing were heard by passing staff and tenants for the next few moments, but the peels of deranged and soon muffled laughter that came at its heels chased the timid daughter of the proprietor who was in charge of cleaning from checking on the strange youth. A swallow and splash of water after his fit and John turned to look over the enormous wealth lying scattered before him with a twisted smile of gleeful greed. Literal stacks of metal and notes, high grade jade boxes and pill bottles, the Spirit weapon, a few folders and journals, several pouches and black lacquered puzzle box. More giggles erupted from John¡¯s mouth as he identified the contents of the pouches. He was tempted to open the boxes and pill bottles but clamped down on the desire knowing they probably held objects with dense qi and fragrances, and opening them would be like hanging a banner from his room saying ¡°Come rob and kill me, I have tons of treasure!¡± He would need to seek a trustworthy appraiser sometime in the future. If he had been mildly worried about money before, he no longer was. John channeled his inner scrooge and counted his haul three times before thirst prompted him to pack it all away and go grab some more water. Added to his assets were now An idle conversation between the cultivation freak and his father a few years ago was brought to his mind when he saw that inscription. John¡¯s eye¡¯s opened wide as he quickly stabbed his finger and pushed a strand of qi into embroidered bag, biting his tongue to keep in his urge to laugh once more as his spiritual sense felt a space several meters wide inside the small leather pouch. ¡®It¡¯s a mother fucking bag of holding! Oh, sorry a cosmos pouch.¡¯ John quickly tried to store a tael into the pouch but was shocked to feel the wisp of qi powering the opening whisked in with tael, leaving the bag inert. A few experiments left John frowning. There was a pretty significant cost to passing an objects mass into the storage space and out again. Far below the costs of powering a technique, but enough that he wouldn¡¯t be using the bag very often. With a wince at the cost, John poured in the bulk of his wealth before heading down to dinner. He¡¯d heard that the cook was really quite pretty and was wondering if she would match the hype he¡¯d heard from love-struck diners in his brief forays downstairs. (Flashback end) While his new found wealth had taken some weight of his shoulders, when compared to the assets the clan lord had controlled and would have gone to Chu Feng¡­ it was pretty much nothing. Their spirit vein produced tens of thousands of low-grade spirit stones a year, and gold paled in comparison to that value. In addition to creating qi rich environments for cultivation in both meanings (spirit herbs were the clan¡¯s secondary business), they were pretty much essential for later stage cultivation as well as useful in formations and crafting. Each stone was valued at a minimum of a thousand taels of gold, and even then a cultivator would be loath to sell. The Chu clan had mined that vein for over 300 years. It was no wonder they were one of the largest and wealthiest groups in Stone Forest city. ¡®Honestly the naming conventions here are straight out of light novel central. Stone Forest City, from the eponymous Stone Forest Wastes to the northwest (a fossilized forest that teemed with reptile spirit beasts), one of the four major cardinal cities of the Great Zhou kingdom, mightiest of all kingdoms in the Soaring Wind Peninsula, according to the local propaganda anyway. I¡¯m willing to bet that the border territory to the kingdoms on the main continent are probably ridiculously more powerful or the trailing edge of a coordinated empire if my trope senses are working. The kingdom likely gained power over the surrounding areas by being landlocked and thus safe from sea beasts and raiders¡­¡¯ Another benefit of his father¡¯s journal was that it listed a contact in the Spirit King Pavilion who would be able to diagnose his condition. The doctor there owed Chu Chang a personal debt, but the marker could be used anonymously and without jeopardizing his fugitive status. It was time for Guo Jing, the legendary warrior, to visit the doctor! Chapter 3: The cost of a drink While letting his ribs finish healing and dodging Mei Liang, John had a fair amount of leisure time. Even with cultivating in small chunks throughout the day there were still many hours to burn. Having finished the few books available and not having the force of will to memorize plants and beast characteristics for more than a few hours a day, John donned the mask of Guo Jing and went searching for gossip. He¡¯d found a slightly more upscale tavern that catered to merchants, and while he took any financial advice with a block of salt, he began to get a feel for the local economy and infrastructure. The soil and qi density, save for a few private farms and formation aided fields, were poor in Stone Forest, so traders did brisk trade in foodstuffs from the more fertile interior of the kingdom. Poison and earth essence beast cores where as common as stones on the ground due to the nature of the petrified wasteland, so they were of course a major export, with several factors placing open bounties for volume contracts to local mercenary groups and clans. Low level spirit beast hordes where a twice a decade hazard that the army and cultivation clans where forced to contribute against, the most recent wave being ust a few years ago so not something he needed to worry about if usual patterns held. The weather here was arid but temperate, and the water table was surprisingly shallow, so other than a preponderance of dust there was few weather or environmental hazards that threatened his livelihood. A few streets further slum side and John tried to get a hold of the experiences of the urban poor. Here he was surprised to find that the City Lord was something of a progressive thinker, or at least was advised by one. Apparently he had replaced the old lord a little over a decade ago after the bastard was caught skimming taxes with too heavy a hand while bleeding the populace and travelers with extra fees and penalties. There had apparently almost been a peasant revolt, and when dealing with standing populations of close to a million in the city and tributary villages and towns, that can lead to a lot of dead cultivators and wasted resources for the state. The first year under Cheng Mu¡¯s administration was strict but fair, and in the wake of his exhaustive census he had developed several social services that wouldn¡¯t have been out of place on Earth. He used the new tax surplus from confiscating his predecessors assets and estates to upgrade the sewers and water system, put in place subsidies for common foodstuffs over cash crops, established public baths and arranged tax credits to healing houses to provide interventions in the poorer districts, and even placed oversight over rental and transient housing rates. With a healthy and motivated underclass the economy was flourishing, and men who had thought of bloody rebellion sang his praises. ¡®This guy is good.¡¯ John mused to himself as he bought a round before pretending to stumble home for the night. ¡®I¡¯ll have to check dad¡¯s little black book¡­ Chu Chang¡¯s¡­ dammit¡­ it¡¯s getting harder to separate my past from Chu Feng¡¯s. I¡¯m still John Penn, I won that battle back on day one, but we are starting to fuse a bit. At this point I¡¯m starting to doubt whether I should keep mental vigilance over the matter, other than a few motivational issues and career tunnel vision the bleed over isn¡¯t having much of an impact. The physical issues of being a 14 year old are much worse. It¡¯s probably because my own childhood is such a blank slate that his memories are just slotting in for mine.¡¯ Concerned as John was with his burgeoning identity crisis, he didn¡¯t noticed the man who¡¯d quickly quaffed his free drink before following John out the door. The evening cast the street in shadows and night torches and watchmen were few and far between. John took a turn down an alley that led to the main boulevard and back to his inn, but before he¡¯d made it a quarter of the way his face was pressed sharply into the rough sandstone blocks of the building to his left as he felt something sharp pressing through the thin fabric of his shirt. ¡°All right little blushing beauty, drop yer purse and I won¡¯t bleed you too badly.¡± John berated himself for losing track of his surroundings as he unloosed the small pouch from inside his shirt, tossing it to the side without a moment¡¯s hesitation. He carried just enough to make sure any thief was satisfied without getting greedy, 2 silvers worth of rings and one note, two week¡¯s wages for a skilled laborer. ¡°That¡¯s all I¡¯ve got friend, I¡¯d rather not bleed at all if you don¡¯t mind terribly.¡± This was John¡¯s fifth mugging counting his previous life, but his first in this one. A piece of Chu Feng sent a flare of indignant anger but it was crushed by John¡¯s life of cold pragmatism. He had no value for face, only his life. Hell he blamed himself for being clumsy enough to mark himself as a target. More worrisome was that this man recognized him as the bashful lad at the Wild Hare, which meant that when he only got three silvers¡­ ¡°I don¡¯t ken that you¡¯re any friend of mine with this sham of a purse on you. Fine fellow like you that can laze in taverns and drink all day should be more prepared to stand his friends a drink, I thinks. No, for two or three taels silver I think my knife is right thirsty.¡± ¡®Shit. Now I have to either let him fleece me deeper, run and waste qi and hope he isn¡¯t trained, or kill this guy without showing off my hoard.¡¯ John cursed himself for letting down his guard while fishing for information. None of what he¡¯d learned was worth exposing himself before he had his strength up, and if he had just took the teasing he could have gotten much of it at his own damn inn. ¡°Well we can¡¯t let anyone go thirsty, though I¡¯d rather slake yours than your knife¡¯s. I¡¯m assuming that since you¡¯re still talking and I¡¯m not bleedi.. ugh¡­ bleeding much that you have a suggestion on how to correct my poor hospitality?¡± John ignored the small trickle of blood and his growing anger while he prepared to use his movement technique at the first opportunity. ¡°Pretty smart lad.¡± The thief¡¯s voice stayed even and mocking as he reached up and ground John¡¯s face into the building while turning him back to face the alley entrance, revealing a smiling young girl around his apparent age who waved a friendly greeting. ¡°My young friend here is going to help the sadly drunken you to your room. For this service you will pay her handsome like or she¡¯s like to shiv you deeply. Which would be a shame as she just happened to treat the blade with Seven Stripe Adder venom this morning, didn¡¯t ya lass?¡± ¡°Sure did chief.¡± The girl chirped in cheerful affirmation. The dumber part of John, probably Chu Feng (¡®Wow being indignant at one¡¯s self is a weird sensation.¡¯), couldn¡¯t help but note that she was rather pretty, with a slim athletic build and sweet face. However the shimmering sheen of oil on her small dirk pulled the stammering session before it could begin. ¡®Well at least combat mode is in play, small favors I guess. How do I wanna do this? I¡¯ll not have a chance to break before she¡¯s in knife range, and I have no defense or aid against fast acting poisons. I¡¯m going to have to make a play with either my blade and talismans, or just hope they don¡¯t intend to kill me after and pay her off. I have about 3 gold in ready cash under the pillow, which is a pretty big score, but¡­ I¡¯m worried they¡¯re the greedy type and will try to go through my trunk¡­ I can¡¯t let that happen.¡¯ John knew this was a kill or be killed world, but he hadn¡¯t thought he would be put in this situation so quickly. His mind raced as he was posed against the girl, her hand and knife under his cloak while she ¡®supported him,¡¯ his anxiety over being forced to make this choice lending a credible pallor to his expression and a shake to his step. The man had faded back into the shadows tailing them, while the girl rolled her eyes at his apparent fear and quipped. ¡°Oh grow a pair you big baby, I¡¯ll not cut you if you¡¯re smart. Sure you¡¯ll have to run back to daddy sooner than you thought, but you¡¯ll have learned some valuable life lessons. Like not to be careless and have money lying about, or turn into a stuttering mess around boobs. I think your gold is well worth our tuition.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. She gave a decisive nod at her little speech, before her eyes narrowed and he felt pressure from her dagger. ¡°And why aren¡¯t you blushing at me, hmm? You don¡¯t think I¡¯m pretty like that cow Mei Liang or the slut Li Chunhua at Even Scales?¡± Giving a little shrug, mind still spinning in possible outcomes and the sick thought of getting blood on his hands, John didn¡¯t notice that he¡¯d started to whisper. ¡°I think you¡¯re very pretty, but I never had my problems with women during spars. Also my parents are dead and I¡¯m on the run from my vile murderous relatives, and I¡¯m worried I¡¯ll have to waste my defensive talisman killing you and your partner to hide my secrets, so I¡¯m too distracted to be much fussed by your lithe form and lovely face.¡± She stopped dead with a confused blush that quickly turned to pale blankness while John staggered a step before what he had said registered. He''d not known his soul fragments could blush, but apparantly his could as chagrin and rage echoed from within his souls. From the shadows he heard a guffaw as the older thief called out, ¡°Hurry up lass, I don¡¯t care if he finally figured out how to flirt or thinks you¡¯re flat as a boy, I want this done and us gone.¡± As the girl resumed walking John could feel her knife edging into his shirt as her arm shook with tension, her breathing was shallow and her eyes kept darting his way. Seeing a chance to recover and possibly turn this situation around, John used his most insidious social-fu technique: The bribe. ¡°If you forget the last few sentences I will increase your payoff. Whatever score you hoped for will pale to the reality. If you try to use that information you will almost certainly die at either mine or my clan¡¯s hands, and the elders I¡¯m running from won¡¯t shy from bloodshed like I do. I don¡¯t think your partner is wise enough to let this drop if you mention it, and you will never get the drop on me like this again. Agreed?¡± John¡¯s heart hammered in his chest, and he could feel her toying with the idea of cutting him and running, but her uncertainty over whether she¡¯d survive and the lure of gold seemed to settle her decision as she gave a slow nod and some of the tension left her arm. Her smile soon returned, if somewhat forced as she turned to him and whispered, ¡°So tell me more about my lithe form and pretty face.¡± John hoped the darkness concealed his blush, but her pleased giggle showed that once again, he was doomed. ****** John tossed the girl the money pouch from his pallet, palming two ten tael gold notes and the only talismans he¡¯d recognized from his studies from his cosmos pouch while she was distracted. He really hoped she wouldn¡¯t make him use them. Anyone who¡¯s cleaned an industrial grill knows how hard soot and fat stains are to get out of wood and fabric, and immolating her would make him feel really guilty, even in self-defense. ¡°Please don¡¯t take this the wrong way when I say I hope I never see you again.¡± John said as he flicked the folded notes in her direction, taking in the way her eyes dilated at the sum he¡¯d casually given up, and how her eyes flickered to him, his trunk, and the money in her clenched fist. John let his qi gather on the activation symbol of the fire storm talisman, praying that she¡¯d make the choice that didn¡¯t leave him a murderer and an arsonist. Whatever internal calculus she was running seemed to process some final variable as she took in his resigned face, and concluded as she smoothed the notes into a cunning seam in the hem of her pants, posing for a moment with a deliberate turn of her calves, before giving him a wink and a nod before slipping out the door. John engaged the heavy lock before slumping against the door with a sigh. He would be moving come first light, and was now determined to merge the other soul completely. The clear delination of his two halfs was what allowed the stupidly honest and na?ve remnant to bubble out in his distraction. John just hoped he wouldn¡¯t end up lobotomiized by Chu Feng¡¯s social ineptitude. ¡®You just focus on cultivating and leave people to me, brat.¡¯ John scolded his other half, and was amused to feel himself agree. ***** Interlude A, Like a thief in the night. Luo Tu felt his minor tension fade when his accomplice strutted out of the Wild Hare. When he¡¯d seen the lad venturing into the slums this afternoon he¡¯d had an epiphany. This was an opportunity to fleece a richer target than he¡¯d ever had. If it were any other inn than this one he would have tried his luck without relying on hired help, but Du Peng knew his face and he had no wish to tangle with the retired soldier again. He fully expected to bring in two full golds from this venture. Now it was time to tally the split and get to spending. ¡°You were right chief that brat was loaded and a right coward. There¡¯s near 3 golds here and as I did most of the leg work I feel it only fair we make it an even spli¡­¡± Yao Ya¡¯s overly cheerful voice cut off as Tu shoved her against a wall, his forearm choking her while he expertly disarmed her dirk with lantern oil smeared along the blade. ¡°I¡¯m certain I offered you 20 silver and a bonus of 10 for every gold. I remember ya smiling fit to burst and ¡®yes chief¡¯ing me fit to death. I reckon that if you were smarter and kept your damn chirping hole shut you¡¯d have 60 coming your way.¡± He smiled in dark satisfaction as her eyes widened while she scratched at his arm, unable to breathe. He leaned a little harder before pulling back and slapping her hard to the dusty alley floor. Watching her gasp and spit bloody froth on the ground he fished 40 silver out of the haul and dropped it on the girl. ¡°A little word of friendly advice girly, don¡¯t try to fix the pay after the job. It makes the client angry something fierce, and you can only do it from strength. Nice workin¡¯ with ya, Ya¡¯er.¡± Luo Tu walked off with his haul straight for the flower quarter. He had an itch that needed scratching, and the night was young. He chuckled as his heightened senses caught the glare and murderous intent from Yao Ya behind him before she turned and scurried off to whatever hole she squatted in these days. He never understood why Light Fingered Nine had apprenticed the pathetic girl, but he had to admit that the training had paid out well for him. Shame he¡¯d passed before learning her the business side of things, but she¡¯d smart up or get herself knifed soon enough. Little cunt was lucky he¡¯d paid her at all after insulting him like that. Tu hummed an old ballad as the red lanterns welcomed him to the Street of Orchids, the highest flower street he¡¯d ever dared to dream of walking. First uncle had once bragged he¡¯d spent a whole gold here in his youth, and never once forgot the experience. Time to see if that bastard¡¯s high tales were worth the hot air he¡¯d been spilling. ****** Interlude B- Fillial Daughters. Yao Ya wiped the last of the dust and blood from her face, grinning fit to bust. She¡¯d have done without the choke and the slap, but it was not the worst she had expected. Old Nine had taught her never to fight about a price once accepted unless the client had lied, and even then just to take the agreed upon offer and then turn around and rob them blind. Dumb smelly Tu never even imagined she¡¯d made even a copper ring more. She touched the hidden pocket in awed disbelief, once more feeling the crinkle of those incredible notes. 20 golden taels¡­ she would never fear winter or hunger again, could move where her ¡®brothers¡¯ weren¡¯t as like to rape, slap or rob her at a moment¡¯s notice when her guard was down. It was like those nonsense tales the older girls in the scrum of orphans she¡¯d run with had told, where the handsome lord whisked the poor but clever girl out of poverty to be his counselor/concubine. Her mind wandered back Guo Jings room, no sign of the stammering, blushing fool or the shaking coward as his hand spun the notes like scraps of trash. His eyes seemed to pierce right through her, laying her greedy thoughts bare, the sad resignation as he waited for her next move, the pained resolve as his frown set. The moment when he decided he would have to kill her. Yao Ya shivered at the intense heat at her core as her thoughts flickered from those black iron eyes to the blush and words praising her beauty before she slapped more water on her face, and tenderly draped a scarf over her bruising neck. She would bring incense to Old Nines marker, and then she was quit with this whole damned slum. Her fate was something bright now.