Chương 1

Lodin felt the eyes of cultivators on him as he pushed his way through the crowd. Their spirit senses brushed over him and found neither qi nor aura, no apparent threat. He felt each one pass over him and move on, and a grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. The market sprawled where Saltside met the harbor, a maze of sun-bleached canopies that ran from the docks to the city wall. A spring breeze rolled in off the bay and stirred colored pennants, carried away the briny scent of the harbor.

Sailors haggled over curios. Vendors called out prices in Imperial both clear and accented. He stepped up to a food stall, "Got any sweet and spicy toba beans?"

"Yes, honored cultivator, I do sir," the merchant croaked, and then he gave a bow so deep he almost headbutted his own counter. Lodin smirked. A dozen spirit senses had swept past him and found nothing, and a street merchant's eyes were closer to the truth than any of them. But he did stand out from the crowd, being a blond-haired, blue-eyed Jotunar, a head or two taller than anyone in this marketplace.

And he had a body built to throw punches: bull-necked and broad-shouldered, with long, powerful arms and hands like the paws of a bear. As the merchant fumbled for a scoop and a paper cone, Lodin's gaze drifted over his stall. Fresh nails held the counter together in a dozen places. One board along the front didn't match the rest, lighter in color, cut rough at the edges. Scorch marks blackened the corner post, and the canopy above had been patched with a square of canvas that didn't match the faded original.

The merchant filled the cone with beans covered in a bright red glaze, then held it out to Lodin and Lodin passed him a copper tael in exchange, before he took a bean and popped it into his mouth.

"Mmh," Lodin nodded and ate another one.

"These're good." They were crisp on the outside, and warm and buttery on the inside. The sweetness struck the tongue first, then the nutty flavor of the bean itself, followed by a savory heat which would build up in the mouth the more one ate. Sweet and spicy toba beans were one of the first things mom had taught Lodin and his brother Lorn to make. Shell the beans first, coat them in a mixture of honey and chili oil, dust them with dry spices and then roast at high heat. Lodin burned his first batch.

He remembered the smoke that filled their mother's kitchen, the way she had laughed and scraped the blackened mess into the trash and told him to try again. Lorn had watched from his chair, head propped against the cushion because his neck couldn't hold it upright. His brother's eyes tracked every motion as Lodin coated the second batch in honey and spices.

"You have to pull them out of the oven faster, you ape. Pay attention," Lorn had said, with a crooked smile. He'd been right. Lorn was right about most things. He could name every spice in the rack but couldn't reach the shelf. He could time a roast to the second but couldn't stand long enough to pull one from the oven. His tongue knew flavor the way a sculptor's hands knew stone, but Lorn's own hands shook too hard to grip a paring knife, let alone a proper blade.

The harbor breeze caught the canopy above him and snapped it taut, and the sound brought Lodin's mind back to the present.

"These are perfect, well done sir," said Lodin.

"This one is pleased you find them so," said the merchant, who struggled to keep the shakiness from his voice. Lodin chuckled.

"This one? That's not your name." The merchant flinched again.

"I–""Tell me your name, man." He looked at Lodin, seemed to conclude that the destruction of his stall wasn't one wrong word away, and gave a small nod.

"Chen, sir."

"Did you make these, Chen?"

"I did sir."

"Well this is my brother's favorite snack," said Lodin.

"And mine too. Is it yours?" Chen gave Lodin a blank stare. Evidently the merchant wasn't used to fielding questions about himself.

"It is, isn't it?" Lodin asked. Chen let out a nervous laugh and nodded.

"Yes, honored cultivator, they are." Lodin grinned and nodded back, ate another bean.

"I can tell. You make them damn good, so you and me are gonna be friends, Chen." Chen's smile turned tense.

"Please, sir, you honor me too much. Anyone could do what I do. I'm not worth your notice, truly." Lodin shook his head, popped another bean into his mouth. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"How many people in the whole empire love sweet and spicy toba beans? Millions?" Lodin asked.

"They're like a pillar of civilization." Chen gave Lodin a sheepish laugh.

"Ah, if this one… I mean, if I may ask, what brings you to Dragon's Rest?" Some of the mirth faded from Lodin's smile. He ate another bean and said, "I'm looking for someone. My brother."

"He is here in the city?" Chen asked. Lodin nodded.

"Somewhere. Maybe you've seen him? He looks like me but skinnier, paler, longer hair."

"I'm sorry, but I haven't seen anyone else like you." Lodin believed him. Even in a city as large as Dragon's Rest, one Jotunar was sure to stand out, let alone two.

"No worries," said Lodin.

"I'll find him sooner or later."

"Would he not have left word somewhere? About where to find him?" Lodin stared at Chen for a long moment, his eyes stony, his face as still as a statue. Then he looked out across the market, stuck another bean in his mouth and chewed.

"Who busted up your stall," he said.

"What?"

"When I came up to you, you froze like a kicked dog. Makes me think you've been hassled by a cultivator before." Chen frowned, and nodded.

"It is as you say."

"That's what I thought." He scanned around the marketplace, and his higher senses spotted a number of cultivators. Some alone, some in twos or threes along the promenade leading from the docks to the gate at the city wall. No one above early core formation. But Master Yan had told Lodin to expect as much; sect cultivators kept to their compounds, sent their outer disciples to patrol their turf, make runs to the market, perform all the other little errands.

"Are they here?" Lodin asked, his eyes still on the crowd. Chen blinked, and followed Lodin's gaze out to the broader marketplace. He scanned from one side to the other, then shook his head.

"No."

"How about anyone from their sect," Lodin asked. The question made Chen look again. He pointed at a duo clad in blue and black. Two men, one with a dao belted at his hip, the other with a pair of hatchets. They stood at a handmade pottery stall not far away from where Chen and Lodin stood, and the merchant behind the counter at that stall looked every bit as tense as Chen had when he'd first seen Lodin. For good reason.

The man with the dao was yelling at the merchant, and the man with the hatchet appeared to be threatening to smash the vase in his hands. Lodin didn't take his eyes off them. He thought about asking Chen what colors that sect represented, but the Jianghu Registry would do that for him. A little probe with his will made their registry badges appear in glowing golden lettering.

– Wen Heung Realm: Foundation Building, 3rd Stage Affiliation: Divine Gale Sect Rank: Outer Disciple, 4th Band – – Oren Shen Realm: Foundation Building, 1st Stage Affiliation: Divine Gale Sect Rank: Outer Disciple, 4th Band – Wen Heung was the man with the dao. Oren Shen was the man with the hatchets. He wished he could have had a look at their Roots, Gates and Seals, Arts, Techniques and Disciplines. But their basic registry badges told him what he needed to know. Chen eyed Lodin.

"Honored cultivator, you do not want to create a grievance with the Divine Gale Sect. They are the oldest and most powerful sect in the city." Lodin chuckled.

"Most powerful huh? Perfect." He plucked a toba bean from the paper cone, held it up between his thumb and forefinger and turned it in the sunlight, with a look of admiration. As if the bean were a gemstone.

"Let me show you how powerful your work is, Chen," he said. With a snap of Lodin's thumb, the bean zipped across the market in the blink of an eye, and smacked against the back of Wen Heung's skull. The man spun around, his eyes wide, and scanned the crowd behind him. Oren did the same, one hand on a hatchet.

"What was that?" Wen said. He rubbed the spot where the bean had struck.

"Something hit me."

"A bug?" Oren said. He squinted at the sky, then at the nearby stalls.

"Too hard for a bug." Wen's fingers came away clean. No blood, but his expression said it had stung.

"Felt like a rock." Lodin flicked another one. This bean caught Wen square on the nose. Cartilage crunched, and blood sprayed down his chin and spattered across his robes. Wen staggered back, both hands pressed to his face. Oren drew both hatchets and stepped in front of him, eyes wild, head on a swivel.

"Who did that?" Oren shouted.

"Who threw that?" The market fell silent. Conversations died mid-sentence. Shoppers froze where they stood, their eyes fixed on the two cultivators. Then they scattered. Mothers grabbed children and pulled them behind stalls. Merchants ducked beneath their counters. A man dropped his basket of fish and ran. Within seconds, a wide circle of empty cobblestone had formed around the two sect disciples. And the only man left standing before them was Lodin.

Oren's gaze swept across the empty cobblestones and stopped on Lodin. His jaw went slack. He spotted the paper cone of toba beans in Lodin's hand first, but then he took in his height, the breadth of shoulder, the blond hair and blue eyes. Behind him, Wen peered through bloodied fingers. His eyes widened, then narrowed. He spat a mouthful of blood onto the stones and drew his blade.

"You," he said. His voice came out ragged and wet.

"You did this." Lodin popped another bean into his mouth and chewed.

"Lucky there's two of you. That potter sure looked tough." Oren Shen's face went purple. A vein bulged at Wen Heung's temple.

"Either you're brave enough to give me some exercise," Lodin said, "Or you're just what you look like, a couple of thugs who only swing at people who can't swing back." Oren Shen's knuckles turned white around the hafts of his weapons. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Just a strangled wheeze, like a teakettle about to boil over.

"You…" he managed.

"You… Dare…" The words came out strangled, half-choked.

"You dare insult the Divine Gale Sect!? You court death, barbarian!" Lodin grinned. Wen Heung made a sound somewhere between a snarl and a gurgle. Blood bubbled from his ruined nose. He raised his blade and pointed it at Lodin's chest.

"I'll kill you," he said.

"I'll slash you open and feed your guts to the dogs." Oren stepped forward. Blue sparks crackled between his twin weapons.

"You have no idea what you've done," he said.

"No idea who you've offended. When our elders hear of this—""Will they send more talking monkeys?" Lodin ate another bean. For a moment they stood perfectly still. Lodin glanced to the side, to see if Chen had fled with the rest of the mortals. He had. And that sideward glance was all the invitation to attack Oren Shen and Wen Heung required. Oren Shen dropped low and charged, hatchets back, head down, legs pumping like a boar that scented blood in the brush.

Lightning crawled up his forearms and wreathed his blades, traced scorched black lines on the cobblestones behind him. He moved fast, faster than any mortal had a right to move. Wen Heung whipped his dao around in a circular flourish, the steel a silver blur that sang as it cut the air. At the end of the gesture he launched himself skyward, robes spread wide. He rose ten feet, fifteen, and at the apex of his leap he raised the dao overhead in a two-handed grip. His blade caught the sunlight and burned white.

Lodin's grin widened as he settled into his stance.