Chương 139: Punching

Joe groaned as he turned toward the familiar voice.

"Hey… Drogon. I was just on my way to find you as well," he lied. Drogon raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

"You were? Why?"

"Oh, just to apologize," Joe said, words tumbling out as he tried, and failed, to pry himself free of the vice-like grip on his shoulder.

"For all the bad words I normally direct to you and the others." Drogon stared at him for a moment, then snorted.

"You're weird. Come. Punching is waiting." Before Joe could protest, he was hauled down the street, boots scraping uselessly against stone as he was dragged toward his impending demise. A few miserable seconds later, Drogon released him with a shove, and Joe stumbled forward, crashing to his knees at the feet of a broad, heavily muscled redhead.

"Bi Luo, where have you been all morning?" Punching asked, his voice flat with boredom.

"We thought you might be sick." He yanked Joe upright and began brushing dust from his clothes with rough, exaggerated care.

"You should be more careful. Falling over like that, people might start to think you're clumsy." Punching tapped him. The blow was anything but light. Joe went sprawling again, the dust he'd just been cleared of immediately reclaimed. He pushed himself back to his feet, brushed himself off once more, and swallowed down the urge to shout. Punching loomed over him, a full head and shoulders taller. So this is what it's like to be short, Joe thought grimly, searching for a response that wouldn't get him killed.

"You're right, Punching," he said carefully, offering a small nod.

"I will try my best not to stumble over my own feet." Punching squinted. The bored expression slid from his face, replaced by something sharper. Curious. Dangerous. Shit.

"Where is the usual greeting?" Punching asked slowly.

"The usual swearing?"

"I… bumped my head," Joe replied, rubbing his temple.

"Lost some of my memories. So forgive me for acting a little differently today." Punching burst out laughing and slapped Joe on the shoulder hard enough to make him wince.

"That is the funniest thing I've heard all day." The other three henchmen and Drogon joined in, their laughter ringing through the street. Joe ignored them, keeping his posture relaxed, waiting. Punching studied him again, clearly expecting the usual snide remark, the familiar spark of defiance. It never came. Joe simply stood there, calm, unbothered, as if none of this mattered. The silence stretched. One minute. Two. By the fourth, Joe smiled faintly.

"If that's all," he said politely.

"I'll be on my way. Sorry to bother you all." He stepped to leave. Herro, henchman number two, shifted smoothly into his path, blocking it without a word.

"Where are you going?" Punching asked. Joe's eyes flicked about, searching for an excuse, any excuse, that might let him leave without being struck. At the end of the cobbled street stood a large building, with villagers entering and exiting in a steady flow. A new memory surfaced. He saw a wide chamber lined with mats. At its far end, a flower bloomed, radiating crimson smoke and glowing with unnatural intensity. He heard his father's voice explaining its purpose. The… Glowing Flower of Radiant Power.

Joe almost laughed at the absurdity of the name. Clearly embellished for this gate, no one would seriously call it that…

"I was on my way to the daily Flower meditation," Joe said, pointing north toward the building. Punching's grin widened. He slapped Joe on the shoulder again, hard enough to make him sway.

"Perfect. So were we. Let's all go together." And so Joe found himself walking beside Punching, flanked by four henchmen, heading toward the meditation hall to partake in their daily allotment of flower power. The building itself was ornate, its yellow stone walls etched with flowing patterns. Small stone gargoyles perched along the slabbed roof, frozen in watchful poses. A faint red mist drifted lazily from the open windows, curling into the morning air.

As they approached, a group of young children burst through the entrance and sprinted past them, glancing at Joe as they ran. Whispers followed in their wake. A kiss… Joe grimaced and shook his head, praying Punching hadn't heard. He risked a sideways glance. Punching seemed utterly oblivious, attention fixed forward. Joe kept his mouth shut and entered the building alongside them. Inside, they stopped briefly at a registration table, names checked to ensure they hadn't already attended that day.

Once cleared, the four henchmen moved ahead into the inner chamber, crossing the room toward a cluster of unoccupied mats. The meditation hall was simple in design but heavy with presence. Every day, each villager was granted thirty minutes before the Flower of Power. During that time, they meditated and absorbed its pulsing energy, which was alien to Joe's senses. He had never felt anything like it before. But now, things started to make sense. The unnatural strength of Twirling and Gretel.

The effortless brutality of those around him. Everyone benefited from the flower. Everyone… except Bi Luo The meditation room was arranged with ten neat rows of mats, filling most of the space and providing each entrant a place to sit and meditate. The rows were numbered from 1 to 10, starting closest to the entrance. Each number denoted both the difficulty and how much energy could be absorbed from that position.

Row one was reserved for young children, just beginning their lives, able to draw in only the faintest traces. Row two belonged to teenagers like Bi Luo, whose strength was still settling into their growing bodies. Row three was for elite youths and young adults, and so on, each step forward demanding more and granting more in return. After giving his name at Punching's insistence, Joe stepped toward the inner chamber. He paused at the threshold and glanced around.

The hall wasn't crowded; midday meant most adults were working, while younger children were still in lessons. Many of the mats lay empty. The furthest occupant was a wizened old man seated in the seventh row, utterly still, lost in deep concentration. The henchmen claimed spots on the second row, though Bi Luo's memories told Joe that Drogon was on the verge of earning the third. Punching gave Joe a rough shove of encouragement as he took a single step inside and stopped.

Punching strode past him and dropped onto a mat in the third row, grimacing as he settled in, sweat already forming on his brow. Joe remained standing just inside the doorway. That single step was the limit Bi Luo had never been able to pass. The reason he avoided this place. The reason he was branded the weakest in the village. Bi Luo's memories pressed in, an invisible weight crushing down, locking his body in place, lungs tight, limbs unresponsive.

That sensation was etched so deeply into the flesh that Joe had unconsciously frozen, expecting it to return. But it didn't. Nothing pressed down on him. Nothing resisted. Confusion rippled through Joe as he stood there, then slowly took another step. Still nothing. He moved forward again, heart thudding harder now, and passed the first row without incident. No one noticed. He reached the second now. Still no resistance.

The oppressive force that had once defined Bi Luo's limits was absent, as though it had never existed. Joe lengthened his stride and moved past it as well. A chill ran up his spine when a few of the seated boys finally noticed him. Heads turned. Eyes widened. Joe ignored them and kept walking. He passed the third row, a sharper chill crawling along his spine, but nothing stopped him. He continued past the fourth, then the fifth, sixth, and seventh. As he did, he glanced sideways at the wizened old man seated there.

One ancient eye cracked open, tracking the impossible movement. Joe gave a faint, helpless shrug and kept walking, not seeing the man's stunned reaction. The tenth and final row loomed ahead. Joe slowed and stopped. Still nothing. No crushing pressure. No invisible barrier. What is going on? he wondered. Was the flower broken? Had the trial glitched? He turned his head and looked back. Every face in the room was frozen in open shock. Joe swallowed, proceeded forward again and stepped beyond the final row.

He only stopped when he stood within arm's reach of the flower itself. Carefully, he lowered himself to the cold stone floor. The air here was thick with red vapour. It tickled his throat, drawing a small cough that sent the smoke billowing and swirling around him. Joe settled into a meditative posture and closed his eyes. This energy wasn't mana, not exactly, but it was close. Familiar. So guided by years of discipline and instinct, he reached out with his mind and began to draw it in.

Bi Luo's body and natural knowledge of this process took over. Joe's eyes snapped open. A torrent of red power surged into Bi Luo's body, pouring down like a celestial waterfall. The room seemed to gasp as one, every observer frozen in disbelief as the energy vanished into him in impossible quantities. __ Roughly twenty minutes after Bi Luo had entered the meditation hall, Village Official Number Twenty-Seven frowned and looked up from his desk. The ambient flow of excess energy had stopped.

That, in itself, was alarming. At this hour, no elite villagers ever meditated, which always resulted in a steady leak of power bleeding outward from the flower. And yet… There was nothing. The air felt thin. Empty. He rose at once and hurried toward the hall. Croissant exited just as he approached, shaking his head slowly.

"Croissant," Number Twenty-Seven asked, unease creeping into his voice, "do you know what's going on? Why is the energy so thin today?" Croissant didn't feel a need to answer verbally. He simply lifted a hand and pointed back into the chamber. Number Twenty-Seven squinted and peered inside. Something was amiss. Where was Bi Luo? He had gone farther than he ever should have. Normally, the boy sat frozen at the threshold, unable to advance even a single step. But now…

It took nearly thirty seconds for his eyes to find the figure seated near the far side of the room. Right beside the flower. Number Twenty-Seven sucked in a sharp breath and broke into a run. Something impossible was happening. __ Joe winced as a raised voice echoed into the room. At first, he ignored it, keeping his focus on the thinning stream of power flowing into him. Nearly all of the excess that had once saturated the hall was gone now, leaving the air clear of red haze.

He stayed still, letting the noise fade into the background, until someone finally shouted his name. He glanced back. A massive, hairy man stood in the doorway, waving frantically at him. Joe lifted a hand in return, then looked up at the clock mounted high on the wall. Five minutes remained. He turned forward again and resumed his meditation, determined to use this unexpected opportunity as fully as possible. For the first time since entering the gate, Bi Luo's body felt alive. The weakness was gone.

The constant sense of frailty and embarrassment had faded. He no longer felt like he would collapse after ten seconds of movement. As he drew in more of the flower's power, Joe began to plan. Maybe, just maybe, Bi Luo could survive the remaining twelve hours of this day. When the final minutes of his allotted time ticked by, the voices around Joe erupted.

"Bi Luo! Get out here at once and explain!"

"He cheated! He must have! How can he sit so close? Someone get him!" Cheated? Joe wondered how anyone could even cheat their way to this position. He started to rise, then stopped. Punching and the henchmen were gone. A sense of dread settled over him. He considered his options quickly. Were they waiting outside? Almost certainly. And there were far more than five boys who took pleasure in beating Bi Luo on a regular basis. So instead of standing, Joe settled back down.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Why stop now? As far as he knew, no one else could even approach this close to the flower. And if someone did manage to drag him out, he could always apologize and promise not to do it again. He saw no real downside. He closed his eyes as the shouting grew louder and focused on drawing in every last trace of energy he could.

It took a full hour before the shouting began to fade, cut short by the arrival of someone strong enough to impose order. A single booming voice rolled through the hall and silenced everyone at once.

"Bi Luo. Time is up. Leave the meditation room before I come and get you." Whether it was hubris, overconfidence, or sheer madness, Joe raised one hand and extended five fingers.

"Five more minutes," he said, not bothering to look back. He hoped, no, he prayed he would not regret those words. When silence followed, he let out a slow breath of relief. It did not last. Heavy footfalls echoed through the room, each step deliberate, each one closer. Joe kept his eyes shut, forcing himself to stay still, but when the presence reached the tenth row, panic clawed at his chest. Shit. If this man could reach the tenth row, there were only a handful of people, Bi Luo's memories said it could be.

The village head. The village head's brother. Or old man…

"Bi Luo!" the voice thundered.

"Last chance. Come here now!" It was Crushing Mountain. The force of the shout sent a tremor through Joe's entire body. Fear rooted him in place, muscles locked by instinct older than thought. His heart hammered as his mind scrambled. Could Crushing Mountain reach him? Was that even possible? He risked a glance. Crushing Mountain took another step forward, moving past the final row and closing the distance between them. Only then did Joe realize his mistake. The red smoke was gone.

The pressure that once weighed down everyone in the room had vanished along with it. There was only a fraction of that pressure left to slow anyone down. Crushing Mountain exploded forward. The movement was so fast it should have been impossible to follow, yet Joe saw it. He reacted on pure instinct, throwing himself sideways and rolling closer to the flower, just barely slipping beyond the reach of Crushing Mountain's outstretched hand. Joe skidded to a stop, his face inches from the flower itself.

Wisps of red brushed across his face as he fought hard not to topple forward. His nose was almost touching the glowing petals. Crushing Mountain roared in fury behind him, but he seemingly would not risk closing the final gap. Joe sucked in a sharp breath. A single petal trembled. Then it lifted free of the flower and drifted upward, brushing his lips and slipping into his mouth. The shock made Joe recoil violently. He leapt backwards straight into Crushing Mountain's grasp.

Powerful arms closed around him as the old man spun and bolted for the exit. Joe barely had time to react. The sudden motion and the strange heat spreading across his tongue triggered a reflex he could not stop. He swallowed. The petal pulsed once as it slid down his throat. Fuck… Bi Luo sat curled in a chair at the centre of a small room, surrounded by three very, very angry old men.

They argued loudly among themselves, voices overlapping as they debated who would have the honour of administering punishment to the boy in their custody. Joe barely heard a word of it. His thoughts churned in tight, frantic circles. He had eaten a petal of the Flower of Power. According to Bi Luo's memories, the act of touching the flower carried only one sentence: death. The village had remarkably few rules, but this one was absolute. No one, under any circumstances, was allowed to touch the flower.

It was sacred beyond measure, more valuable than any single life within the village. The only reason Joe was still breathing was simple and terrifying. No one had seen him swallow the petal. Sweat poured down his back as he tried to work out how to keep it that way. He suddenly burped. A thin wisp of red smoke escaped his lips. Joe snapped his mouth shut and waved a hand frantically in front of his face, trying to disperse it. Three pairs of eyes snapped toward him.

He forced his expression into something resembling normalcy, heart hammering so hard he was certain they could hear it. After a tense moment, the old men returned to their argument. Joe resisted the urge to sag in relief. He did not dare open his mouth again. The petal was not dormant. That was the worst part. It continued to pour its strange power into him, relentlessly, feeding him energy along with the red vapour that threatened to betray him at any moment.

His stomach churned and growled as more smoke built inside him, and he knew with sinking dread that it would have to come out sooner rather than later. The door to the room opened. The argument died instantly. Cere stepped into the room, and all three old men rose as one, hands pressed to their chests in a respectful salute.

"Matriach," they said in unison. She dismissed them with a wave and strode directly toward Joe, thunder in her eyes.

"Stand up," she ordered. Joe shot to his feet with startling speed. His body felt different, overfilled with power, muscles tight and restless like a coiled spring ready to explode. Cere's eyebrow twitched upward at the display, but the anger in her gaze did not lessen.

"Explain, Bi," she said coldly.

"Why did you extend your meditation time?" It was not the question Joe had expected. He answered anyway, barely pausing to think.

"Because I had an opportunity to get stronger and I took it," Joe said honestly, carefully leaving out why he needed that strength so badly. Cere studied him for a long moment, her gaze sharp and searching. She turned slightly and looked over her shoulder at the three men behind her.

"Did he break any other rules?" she asked.

"No. But that doesn't excuse what he did!" Crushing Mountain bellowed. His voice faltered as Cere turned that thundering stare on him, his cheeks flushing red.

"Excuse what?" she asked softly. The quiet tone sent a shiver through Joe, even though the words were aimed at Crushing Mountain.

"He… He sat beyond the final row of mats," Crushing said, suddenly sounding far less imposing, more like a chastised youth than a village pillar.

"And where in the rules does it say he is not allowed to sit where he wishes?" Cere demanded, planting her hands firmly on her hips. Joe's thoughts spun. Was she defending him? Had she come here to pull him from the lion's mouth?

"Well… uhm. That's not the point," Crushing insisted weakly.

"He did something! How could he approach the flower closer than anyone in the village's history? Even your husband never passed the final row." The argument rang hollow, and Joe nearly gaped at it. He stopped himself just in time, clenching his jaw as his stomach churned again in protest. Cere sighed and turned back to Joe.

"Bi, do you apologize for overstaying your allotted time?" Joe nodded vigorously.

"And do you swear there were no tricks? That you did not cheat in any way to approach the flower?" Joe nodded again, then abruptly stilled as his stomach rolled unpleasantly. Cere caught the movements. She shifted her stance, subtly placing herself between Joe and the three old men. Turning her back to him, her fingers moved in a quick, deliberate pattern. Joe's eyes fixed on them as a memory surfaced, his sister's voice explaining how the women of the village communicated in secret. Are you sick? Cere had asked.

Shit. She really was far too perceptive. Joe scrambled for an excuse as Cere continued speaking aloud.

"As I see it," she said calmly, "Bi has broken only one rule. And we all know there is no possible way he could have cheated to reach the flower. If such a loophole existed, both of your children would have discovered it long ago." She pointed at two of the old men. They hesitated, then nodded in reluctant agreement.

"You have a point. I didn't think the whole cheating rumour would hold much weight," Loosely said, his name surfacing in Joe's mind alongside a faint, unhelpful memory.

"That is not the point!" Crushing snapped.

"He broke the rules and must be punished accordingly. The room was completely drained of energy. It will take at least a day to replenish, and most of the village hasn't had their turn yet."

"Is that all?" Cere replied, rolling her eyes.

"The village can survive one day without meditation." She then turned back to Joe, who clutched at his stomach and exaggerated a sway, doing his best to look moments away from being sick.

"Crushing. Do go grab a bowl," Cere said dismissively.

"Young Bi looks ready to empty his stomach at any moment." Crushing grumbled but obeyed, leaving the room in a hurry. The instant he was gone, Cere leaned down and caught Joe's face between her hands, pulling him uncomfortably close.

"Are you sure you're okay, Bi? You're awfully quiet today," she said, giving his cheek a light squeeze. It was the worst possible thing she could have done. Joe's stomach spasmed violently. A sharp hiccup escaped him, and his mouth filled with red smoke. Panic exploded through him as his eyes went wide. Cere's own eyes widened in alarm, clearly assuming she was about to be vomited on. She jerked her hands away quickly. That movement sealed Joe's fate. A tiny puff of red smoke slipped free from his lips. Cere froze.

Her gaze locked onto the drifting haze, and Joe could practically see the moment understanding dawned. The pieces clicked together far too quickly. The game was over. Joe opened his mouth, desperate to explain, to say anything that might keep him alive. But before a single word could escape, before most of the smoke even left his mouth, Cere lunged forward. For a split second, Joe thought she was about to strike him.

Instead, she seized both his hands, flung them upward in a sharp motion to scatter the lingering smoke, and then pressed her lips against his. She inhaled. Joe's mind went blank as the remaining smoke was drawn from his mouth, and alarmingly, his entire stomach. The motion was swift, forceful, and utterly unexpected. He stood rigid, choking slightly as the air was pulled from his lungs. It lasted barely two seconds before Cere pulled back and clamped a hand over his mouth. She stared straight into his eyes.

Joe swallowed hard and forced himself to stay silent. He knew that look well enough. If he made a sound now, he was doomed. She turned back to the remaining two old men, who had very clearly just witnessed her kiss a boy the same age as her daughter, yet showed no outward reaction at all.

"Just a quick peck to stop him from hurling puke all over me," Cere said breezily, as if that explanation made perfect sense. Both men nodded, apparently accepting without question.

"Now," she continued, voice firm, "If the two of you would kindly leave us, I will administer an age-appropriate punishment for a young man. Not whatever you old buzzards were planning." The men opened their mouths to protest, but Cere had already turned her back on them. The discussion was over. Moments later, Crushing returned with a bowl, only to be ushered right back out amid his loud complaints. The door closed, and the room fell quiet. Joe was alone with Cere.

She studied him with the focused intensity of a predator sizing up prey. Joe shifted under her gaze, deeply uncomfortable, his thoughts spiralling. Why had she covered for him? Why go that far? Cere sighed, then gave him a quick wink before sitting down and patting the space beside her, clearly inviting him to join her. Joe did not. Instead, he carefully lowered himself back into the chair he had occupied before. Cere arched a brow but let it slide.

"Now, now dear, Bi," she said calmly, "do tell me why I had to pull the flower's energy out of your mouth?" There was no mistaking that question. She knew exactly what had been escaping his lips. For one reckless, suicidal moment, Joe considered inventing some absurd excuse. But she had already saved his life once. Lying now felt like the fastest route to the chopping block. So he told her the truth. He explained everything. Entering the meditation hall. Walking past the rows. Crushing Mountain's arrival.

The moment near the flower. The petal lifting free. The accidental swallow. To her credit, Cere did not interrupt him once. When he finished, she slapped her own forehead and rubbed her temples, eyes squeezed shut. They sat in silence for a long ten minutes. Then Cere looked up. At that exact moment, Joe burped. Another faint cloud of red smoke drifted into the air.

"Sorry," Joe said awkwardly.

"This petal keeps filling my stomach faster than I can absorb the energy. I have absolutely no control over that." Once again, to his disbelief, Cere leaned forward and inhaled the small cloud he had released.

"We wouldn't want that energy to go to waste," she said lightly, punctuating it with a wink. Joe wasn't sure whether he felt relieved or nauseous. Didn't it smell terrible? He lifted a hand and cautiously tested his breath. To his surprise, it smelled faintly floral. Cere laughed at the expression on his face, and he took that as a good sign.

"So… What now?" he asked.

"I assume you're not going to turn me in and…" He drew a finger across his throat. Cere laughed again and shook her head.

"I'm not in the habit of beheading young men," she said.

"And as far as I'm concerned, this wasn't entirely your fault. Your secret is safe with me. On one condition."

"Anything," Joe said quickly, pressing a hand to his chest.

"If I get to walk out of here alive, I'll be your servant for a full year." It wasn't as if he'd still be here in twelve hours, after all. If future Bi Luo had to pay for this mess, so be it. Cere studied him, smiling faintly.

"I don't think my daughter would appreciate me keeping one of her acquaintances as a servant," she said dryly.

"And I doubt my husband would enjoy the extra house guest." Joe wisely chose not to imagine the village chief's reaction.

"Instead," Cere continued, "you will accept punishment for overstaying your meditation time and for draining the room for a full day. And then, you will visit my home on the hour, every hour, for the rest of today." Joe agreed at once, though he had no idea why hourly visits were required. He considered asking, but the look in her eyes shifted, turning stern as she slipped fully into authority.

"Follow me, Bi," Cere said as she stood.

"Time for your public shaming. Otherwise, those old fools will never stop pestering me." She turned toward the door, and Joe followed, bracing himself for whatever came next. Joe's public shaming turned out to be ten lashes from a small whip. He was also banned from meditation for a month and sentenced to handwrite an apology to every single villager for depriving them of a day's meditation. Mercifully, the written apologies came with no deadline, so he quietly deferred that problem to tomorrow.

The lashes, however, were immediate. A short while later, a very sore Joe emerged from the meditation building, gingerly rubbing his rear as it burned with every step. He had a strong suspicion Cere had gone easy on him. That suspicion was reinforced by the scowls of the three old men, who muttered about soft lashings and complained that he was old enough now to endure a proper man's punishment. Joe filed that away. If he survived this day, he would remember. For now, he was simply grateful to still be breathing.

That feeling lasted all of five seconds. The moment he stepped fully outside, he found himself face-to-face with Punching. Worse, Punching had not come alone. Around them stood nearly ten boys, all glaring at Joe with open hostility. Joe stopped cold. Fuck…