Chương 5

Lodin sat at the platform's edge in lotus position, his back straight, his eyes closed, settled in to await the arrival of one Somchai Lek. The sun hung low over the harbor of Dragon's Rest, painted the clouds in bands of copper and rose. The public arena in Saltside was a circular platform of pale concrete ringed by two concentric rows of stone benches. Every Imperial city had a number of these, necessary infrastructure for the many petty disputes of low-level cultivators.

The benches held a dozen spectators who had spotted the huge blond foreigner and claimed seats in anticipation of some sport. While Lodin waited, his mind drifted back to other sunsets. To the training grounds behind the home of Master Guo Yan, with whom he and his brother Lorn had spent the last ten years. One evening after the day's training, during a sunset much like this one, Master Yan sat with his gaze fixed on the horizon, a thoughtful look in his eyes as he puffed on his pipe.

Yan was tall for an Imperial, but still dwarfed by his two Jotunar pupils, and even in his fine robes he had a rough, unpolished look to him. The look of a man who had spent centuries wandering the world, his skin dried and darkened by the sun, stubble ever-present on his jaw and chin.

"The currency of the Jianghu is honor," he said.

"And the essence of honor is reciprocity." Lodin and Lorn sat together with their legs crossed, drenched in sweat, alert to their teacher's words as their bodies cooled. The evening breeze felt good against Lodin's skin, and warmth still radiated up from the sun-baked stones beneath them.

Lorn was paler and skinnier than Lodin still, his hair long and lank and more white than blond, but Master Yan's training and regimen of alchemical supplements had wrought miracles; for the first time in his life he could stand and walk, could take care of himself, could train. Master Yan puffed his pipe again, watched the smoke curl in lazy tendrils before him, and continued, "Reciprocity. Promises are to be kept, favors are to be repaid, and insults are to be punished."

"It's stupid to fight to the death over an insult," Lorn said. Master Yan smirked.

"In the eyes of the Jianghu, an unanswered insult is the same as an unanswered blow. It is a show of weakness. To maintain his honor, a cultivator must be ready to answer any insult, any injury, with merciless retribution." Lorn scoffed. Lodin's brother had taken to his training like a man possessed. He trained like a demon. Lorn came at these evening discussions with the master with the same energy, a verbal sparring match to wind down from the physical. Master Yan indulged him.

It seemed to Lodin that the old man welcomed the challenge. Yan tapped his pipe against his palm.

"The First Emperor Odoshinko believed that if a citizen's responsibility to uphold their own honor were taken away, it would be the same as taking away their strength itself. It would weaken all civilization."

"Or it would guarantee the Emperor's subjects waste their energy on quarreling amongst each other instead of questioning him," said Lorn. Lorn opened his mouth to keep talking, but Yan raised a hand.

"Let me tell you the tale of two cultivators," he said.

"Men who lived nearly a century ago, in the world of Tosho." He settled back against the wooden post behind him, one knee drawn up, the pipe held loose in weathered fingers.

"Now, in Tosho, much like in your home of Joguo, cultivators prefer to organize themselves into clans rather than sects. Nearly a century ago, there lived two cultivators of great renown. Yorinaga of the Hosokawa clan, and Sadayoshi of the Imagawa clan. Both had reached Core Formation before the age of twenty. Both were high on the line of succession in their respective houses. And they were the closest of friends." The smoke curled above his head and drifted toward the darkening sea.

Below the hill, the waves crashed against the rocks in a steady rhythm.

"For years they trained together, fought together, drank together. When the Hosokawa and Imagawa clans negotiated treaties, Yorinaga and Sadayoshi served as intermediaries. When one man faced trouble, the other came to his aid. The Jianghu of Tosho knew them as brothers in all but blood." He tapped the pipe against his palm. A few flecks of ash fell and scattered in the breeze. The air had begun to cool, and Lodin felt the sweat dry on his arms.

"Then came a succession dispute in the capital, and the Hosokawa and Imagawa clans found themselves on opposite sides. Old grievances resurfaced. Men who had been allies began to eye one another with suspicion." He drew from his pipe. The ember lit the creases of his face in orange and shadow. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"One night, at a gathering meant to ease tensions, both men drank too much. The wine flowed and so did careless words. Yorinaga made a joke at Sadayoshi's expense. A small thing, the kind of jest that had passed between them a hundred times before. But Sadayoshi was deep in his cups, and the political air had frayed his nerves. He took offense. He answered the joke with an insult. A real one." Master Yan's gaze stayed fixed on the horizon.

"Yorinaga could not let it stand. He answered in kind, harsher still." He paused. The pipe smoke rose and dissipated. Somewhere in the grass, crickets had begun to sing.

"By morning, both men were sober. Both regretted what had passed between them. But the words had been spoken before witnesses. Clan honor was at stake. The elders of both houses demanded satisfaction." Lorn shifted where he sat. Lodin watched his brother's jaw tighten.

"Yorinaga and Sadayoshi tried everything. Intermediaries. Letters of clarification. Offers of public apology. But the clans would not permit retreat. To back down was to admit weakness. To show weakness was to invite attack from rival houses who watched and waited for any sign of faltering." He drew from his pipe. The ember glowed bright, then faded. A night bird called from somewhere below the hill, and another answered it.

"They delayed as long as honor permitted. Weeks passed. Then months. But the day came, as it had to come. The two friends met in the arena before their assembled clans." He watched the color of the sky deepen to violet against the amber clouds.

"Witnesses say they stood across from one another for a long time before either man moved. Some claim they saw Yorinaga's lips form words, though none could hear what he said. Others say Sadayoshi shook his head, once, a small motion. Then they drew their weapons." He tapped his pipe against his knee.

"The duel lasted but a moment. Both men had attained Core Perfection. Both had trained together for years. They knew each other's techniques as well as they knew their own. One slash of Yorinaga's blade severed three of Sadayoshi's meridians. One stroke of Sadayoshi's warhammer fractured Yorinaga's core." Silence. The crash of distant waves.

"Neither wound was survivable. But neither was quick. Perfect Core cultivators do not die easily. Yorinaga lasted two days. Sadayoshi held on for three." Lorn stared at the sunset for a while.

"Stupid," he said. But the anger in his voice had gone thin. Lorn stared at the horizon, and Lodin watched him digest the story of Yorinaga and Sadayoshi like bitter medicine. After a long moment, the corners of Lorn's eyes tensed, as if something uncomfortable had just occurred to him, and his gaze shifted to Lodin. There was a hint of the old Lorn in his stare. The young Lorn, who was meek and quiet, unsure of himself.

"What if someone forced us to fight each other?" Lodin had taken in the look on his brother's face, and answered it with a grin.

"Well… First, we smash anyone who would dare to try and make us do anything. And then, when they're well beaten and can trouble us no more, we fight. For the fun of it, not for them." A smile crept across Lorn's pale face, and some of the tension left his shoulders. The master drew from his pipe and let the smoke drift, his eyes warm and the corner of his mouth curled into a smile of his own as he watched them. Then, as now, the sun touched the horizon. Lodin sat with the memory.

Yorinaga and Sadayoshi's clans turned unfriendly by the changing winds of politics, and the two friends were a casualty of that change. The rules of the Jianghu were just another weapon in the hands of the clans of Tosho. They were eliminated the moment their friendship became inconvenient. Lodin would not be played like that. Whatever Lorn had gotten himself into here, Lodin would get him out of it. He opened his eyes when he felt the presence of five cultivators approaching.

Torches and paper lanterns had been lit in the square, in anticipation of dusk. The size of the crowd had grown modestly, and now that the Divine Gale Sect deigned to appear, more people stopped what they were doing and took seats. Four cultivators clad in black and blue fanned out behind the leader. All higher ranking outer disciples. All Foundation Building realm. Lodin scanned each face, each badge. Somchai Lek was not among them. Lodin frowned, and looked at the apparent leader's badge again.

– Chao Wei Realm: Foundation Building, 9th Stage Affiliation: Divine Gale Sect Rank: Chief Outer Disciple – So he had not taken the bait. Or perhaps he would have, if the sect had not sent their chief outer disciple to handle the matter. Loin guessed that afterwards Chao Wei would go back to the compound and ask Somchai Lek some pointed questions about this stranger. Which meant Lek was packing his bags right now, if he had any sense. This had been a wasted move.

Lodin would have to handle this quickly and go after another name on the list. Chao Wei stopped at the edge of the arena. He stood nearly as tall as Lodin and was bulkier, brawny through the chest and shoulders with a round gut like a dome of cast iron. He had tan skin, black hair, and fierce eyes that swept over Lodin with contempt.

"Barbarian," he said.

"You insulted the Divine Gale Sect and crippled two of our brothers. I am here to deliver retribution." His lip curled.

"After I beat you to a bloody pulp, you will be dragged to our compound and questioned about your relationship with Somchai Lek." Lodin shrugged.

"No need for that. I'll tell you right now. I don't have a relationship with Somchai Lek, but I'm pretty sure he knows something about the whereabouts of my brother Lorn."

"And what makes you think he would know this." Lodin smirked.

"I don't think you want me to answer that in front of all these people." A murmur rippled through the spectators. Chao Wei's eyes narrowed.

"Whatever lies you're peddling, you can tell them to our elders. After I'm done with you." Lodin stood, hopped in place a bit, shook out his limbs and stretched his neck. Chao Wei's jaw tightened. A vein pulsed at his temple. For a moment it looked like he might charge onto the platform without any formality at all. Then he mastered himself. His hands unclenched. His breath came slow and measured.

"I, Chao Wei, Chief Outer Disciple of the Divine Gale Sect, challenge you to formal combat under the laws of the Jianghu. Do you accept." The Registry prompt appeared before Lodin's eyes. – FORMAL CHALLENGE Chao Wei (Divine Gale Sect) challenges Lodin Lundgren (Unaffiliated) to sanctioned combat. Victory Conditions: Submission, Incapacity, Death Special Wager: None Accept? [Y/N] – Lodin selected yes. Chao Wei stepped onto the platform, rolled his neck, cracked his knuckles.

His fists came up like hammers, eyes afire with the promise of violence. Lodin grinned and settled into his stance.