Chapter 142 - 8-10

Chapter 8 Promotion Politics

Sang Lee stood across from me, glaring at me with malice as our brethren packed in around the arena. After all, if we were going to risk losing a disciple, the sect wanted to make sure as many could learn from the exchange as feasible. 

"Any last words, thief?" He shouted as he drew his sword. 

"Nope, but which eyebrow do you want to keep?" I laughed, twirling mine. Honestly, he should be thanking me for being used to prevent his marriage.

Yang Jingji would have eaten him alive. She told him that she was accepting my -nonexistent- courting explicitly to provoke him into getting his ass beat by me. In fact, she'd quite directly requested over dinner that I break him as a cultivator, a noble, and as a man.

Charming woman. A tad overconfident in my prowess, given the nearly full Tier of raw power gap between myself and Sang, but charming.

He shifted to a ready stance as I decided to remove his right eyebrow, then Elder Qian, the formal witness for the duel, called out the start signal.

Deliberately not maintaining a stable foundation in a combat stance has terribly few advantages, objectively speaking. One of them is the ability to fall over at will. Which is amazingly useful when one's opponent is highly trained in blade thrust attacks.

Swinging my own blade in a deliberately sloppy leading weight fashion as his now-flaming sword pierced through the air above me, I managed to nick his thigh. Not enough to impact the mechanics of the fight, but as the flaming blade twisted to slice down at me, I could see his anger at my scoring first blood. 

And that anger helped immensely in blinding him to my blade's swing continuing up and around to intercept his and letting me throw myself back from him before I reached the ground.

A second advantage of fighting without a working relationship with the ground is that I've had to master the art of being ready to defend and strike from the weirdest positions. Such as twisting in midair to dodge the already-pursuing Sang's thrust and set my legs wrapping around his arm.

To my immense surprise he failed to get out of my grasp. So I cinched my legs in a deeply uncomfortable position and threw myself backwards to wrench his arm and balance with my whole body weight. 

Impacting the ground popped his shoulder and my ankle out of place and spoiled my aim with my blade, causing me to stab his ass instead of my requested target. 

Then I took a second to evaluate our position, me half-sitting on his ribs with my legs tangled under his dislocated arm, and I looked down at him. 

"Do you have an answer, or are we almost done?" I asked darkly as I wrenched my blade free.

Terror filled his face as he realized that I had the mobility to simply kill him. "Yield! I yield!"

"Good. And as victor, my satisfaction." I held his head down, right side up, and ignored his screaming and swearing as I very carefully carved off the flesh of his right eyebrow.

"There, now you are leeward faced." I announced my pun that didn't actually translate at all. "Be smarter and develop a personality."

Then I slid my legs out from under him and stepped back, eyes on him the entire time it took for the medics to cart him off. Then I rolled my ankle back into place, bowed to Elder Qian, and walked out of the arena hiding the limp that would probably take me days to repair properly. Especially in front of cultivators, presenting the image of overwhelming strength was of vital importance to deterring attempts on one's life.

"Well fought, little Guang!" Elder Tong's voice announced him after a few short paces past the exit, and the tension in it betrayed that he very much did not want to have this conversation.

"Disciple greets Elder Tong." I bowed as though he hadn't sent assassins after me. A trivial feat, really, given how little I cared about him or his family. "I had a bit of luck, that is all."

"Be that as it may, you still capitalized on it well." his manipulation technique slid off my thoughts harmlessly. "I've been tasked with bringing you to meet with the Elders regarding our decision"

"Am I appropriately dressed, or shall I take a moment to don something with less blood on it?" I asked as if I didn't know the answer. It was just fun to watch his face darken in a scowl for a fraction of a second. 

"Don't tarry any, I'll meet you back here."

"Elder need not worry on that matter." I smiled and performed a quick-swap inventory switch that I'd spent several hours practicing with my new ring. "Disciple would not dare ask for a moment if he required two."

For all he held no place in my eye beyond a hazard to be mindful of, he recognized the display as something that only the most vain of nobility bothered mastering, and I saw his esteem for me drop several notches. "Very well, this way, then."

Sweet heavens it was going to be satisfying if I got to kill him with a talisman from my ring using the same fundamental trick.

Putting my sense of poetry aside, I followed him into the inner territory of the sect and to the Masters pavilion, the seat of sect politics. Glancing around, I was struck by the weight of the fact that one sect could comfortably have nearly twenty Elders. Most sects tore themselves apart if they had more than ten, according to my informants. 

The fact that more than half of them wanted me to just die was an afterthought.

I bowed, as they expected. Not announcing myself because I had not been acknowledged. Not showing agitation, as though I agreed that this was the natural order.

"You've made something of a name for yourself, Outer Disciple Guang." a Sang Elder levelled an insult by addressing me without formal acknowledgement. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Nothing of import, Honorable Elder Sang." I spoke while maintaining my bow, subtly calling out her insult by remaining 'unacknowledged'. "The results of my actions speak sufficiently loudly for themselves."

Indignant shifting of cloth reached my ears, as though the shortsighted Elders couldn't believe that I would dare stand behind the damage to their positions.

"You offer no defense for the disarray you set several of the noble families into these past weeks!?"

"I would never dare offer a defense for the actions of Elder Ho Quan. To do so would be tantamount to declaring that I know her will despite not even sharing her name."

Spiritual pressure filled with malice pressed upon me from several directions, setting my panic instincts into overdrive. Thankfully still within my ability to handle, but confirming that my emotions could grow large enough to match my Identity Core's limits.

"Would the honorable sect Elders prefer that I posture and claim to be able to manipulate my seniors?" I asked with false calm. "Disciple's understanding of honoring noble Face may be lacking on this matter, and I beg indulgence. What claim could I make that does not offend in this matter?"

The malice intensified as they registered that by blaming me for their own indiscretions, they'd accidentally claimed me to be their superior.

My hands were becoming clammy under the pressure and I was starting to sweat when a new voice spoke up. "Sang! Tong! Ho! Have you no need for Face in your old age?"

The pressure lifted with startled abruptness. "I come to inspect a proposed candidate for acceptance as an Inner Disciple for myself, and I find this? So soon after you argued that the sect is blossoming with internal cohesion!"

"Apologies, Sect Master." Sang's voice answered. "I seem to have forgotten myself after watching my nephew's defeat."

What the hell is the Sect Master doing here? All of what he wants of me depends on him not looking like he's protecting me! 

A sinking dread started to grow in my gut as answers started providing themselves in the back of my mind. All of them boiling down to the conclusion 'I'm out of time'.

"Oh, is this the same Guang that your nephew challenged?" The Sect Master asked casually as he moved to his reserved seat.

"It is indeed." Tong answered. "I escorted him from his match myself."

"Ah, that makes sense then. A moment's loss of composure can be excused so shortly after an event such as that." he deliberately gave Sang a measure of Face while conspicuously leaving Ho and Tong offended. "Say, Disciple Guang. Why scar young Sang's face so grievously?"

"Disciple greets Sect Master." I answered formality first, before continuing "I had an honor duel levelled at me for actions that, to my understanding, were no less than four parties removed from a thoughtless comment of mine. It seemed appropriate, if I am to be held accountable for actions so far removed from my power, to deter frivolous thoughts of demanding duels with a living example of the consequences."

"Hmm. That sounds prudent to me." he invited the Elders to voice their thoughts on the matter with a pause.

"It may be my closeness to the matter speaking." Elder Sang opened. "But when a 'thoughtless comment' sets house against house and ruins multiple marriage arrangements, seeking to avoid the consequences of one's words stinks of cowardice to me, not prudence."

"If it were the careless words that created the division, I would agree." another Elder answered. "But Guang does have a point that the divisiveness began after someone else's actions overstepped prudence. Holding him accountable for a particularly poor reaction to his words seems to me to be a way of encouraging ourselves to be reckless instead of cultivating our own prudence."

"Have you watched this man's behavior?" Sang asked in exasperation. "He manipulates reactions for causes from the grandiose to the trivial. Your own family is quibbling with your Founder's wisdom because he penned a forty page manual twenty years ago! He probably spent the past two decades manipulating the Ho family through Ho Yin so that they would respond poorly!"

"Even if I believed him capable of that, it remains true that better composure on the Ho's part would have prevented all of your complaint, and your own family being level-headed at the outset would have spared you much of your loss of Face this past month."

I listened to the Elders bicker and felt the gnawing pit in my gut grow as I realized how badly I'd misjudged the hidden politics embedded in their relations to each other. These weren't 'xianxia dipshits' and 'cultivators who understood teamwork.' 

The ones trying to defend me were literally flouting the one major cohesiveness principle that Face culture understood -throwing the upstart under the bus to calm things down. And as near as I could figure, they were doing it because they expected me to return the favor if they were ever in the wrong in someone else's eye, standing permitting.

I was absolutely out of time to figure out how to ditch the sect. 

"As fascinating as it is to dissect the events of the past month, I propose that we return to the matter at hand." a silken voice undercut the rising tension, thankfully giving Sect Elder Ho Kiang the last word, not one of my 'defenders'. "Personally, I find his foresight in deterring others from wasting their lives more pertinent than whether he deserves the blame for the recent events."

Damn it. Even with the backhanded delivery, that'll still antagonize them more.

"Though I disagree with Elder Raka that the matter of blame is immaterial, I do feel we ought to sort the matter separately." Someone else added. "Unless we'd like to ask Guang to weigh in on the matter of his own punishment?"

Derisive laughter indicated that the matter was agreed, and the Sect Master nodded. "Very well. What brought young Guang into consideration in the first place?"

"In addition to the actions confirmed to be deliberate that were mentioned a few moments ago, the fact that he broke through to the Qi Condensation stage just seven weeks ago." Tong supplied. He was doing a marvelous job of acting like he was a neutral party, despite having been caught menacing me.

The Sect Master raised an eyebrow, deliberately looked me up and down, and looked back to Tong. "I see. And in those seven weeks, he's formed a Soul Core?"

"During the second, yes. While out on a beast subjugation."

"Hmm.." 

As he lapsed into considering silence, I had to wonder who he thought he was fooling, even with every appearance being that he was only just hearing about me for the first time, I wasn't fooled, and I couldn't imagine any of the Elders were either.

"What are the marks against him, then?"

"Flagrant disregard for traditions of the sect, refusal to put his betters in his Eye, conspiracy to destabilize the foundations of the noble houses, and the incitement of former servants to continue his efforts." Raka's calm, smooth voice answered before someone else could.

"Indeed? What have you to say about these matters, Guang?"

I put aside the momentarily useless schemes to escape the sect and put on an easy smile. "Each tradition I hold disdain for is one that causes weakness in the sect, whether directly or through sabotaging the growth of disciples and masters alike. The foundations that I'm accused of destabilizing are simply suffering a bit of adjustment difficulty. Two generations of considering the matter will reveal that my actions are instead to strengthen them the same way those same actions have strengthened the sect."

If any of the Elders had thought to weaponize affront, I'd be dead on my feet as even the Sect Master balked that I'd answer so bluntly. 

"And of course I exhort my peers to consider at all times whether their behavior will weaken or strengthen the sect. If they think only of their own strength and Face, they shall create division and lead the sect to ruin."

I could almost hear echoes of flesh stinging flesh in the indignant silence after my retort. All of my enemies in the room knew I'd just insulted them more elegantly than they could forgive, and by the looks on their faces, several of my 'allies' had caught that they were included.

And the insult was deliberately phrased in such a way that to announce their offense would be tantamount to admitting I'm right.

The silence extended for unticked seconds and I stood and bore it with the same smile that I'd wear listening to lectures or eating a meal with. Giving them all the impression that I thought nothing amiss of declaring obsessive self-fixation to be an obvious defect in their worldview.

"Well," the Sect Master spoke gingerly, "That is certainly a more earnest position than most would take."

I inclined my head as though it weren't obvious to me how many more assassins I'd be fending off, nor how much more dedicated the efforts would be.

"Do you expect to receive the promotion to Inner Disciple, with that... indelicate position?"

"My only expectation is that the Honorable Elders who have served the sect well for these past centuries will continue to act in the best interests of the sect." I answered calmly, with a bow of performative respect. "It is not my position to expect upon the details of those actions."

The only thing I could see keeping my head attached to my shoulders was the fact that nobody was ready for the schism war to start right now by removing it, which is a far less worrisome position than it sounds like. 

After all, for all that young masters were prone to flying off whatever handle they happened to spot, old masters survived to get old by having their ducks in order before indulging in such a takeoff.

Which meant that precisely none of the Elders would risk raising a blade where the rest could see. Poetically making here, surrounded by old monsters that I couldn't hope to resist who wanted to water their gardens with my blood, one of the safest places I'd been in the past year.

"Well." the Sect Master finally broke the silence after more than a minute. "I'm satisfied regarding his devotion to the sect, at least."

"Indeed." Tong echoed, "His common-born tact leaves something to be desired, but that can be accounted for with appropriate tutelage. So I'm satisfied that he'll not mar our reputation overmuch."

"I'm satisfied at his strength and his composure." Elder Yang Shisu weighed in for the first time in the discussion. "Even if his methods in combat are unsightly, he wields them expertly for one so young."

I almost missed the Ho Elder shooting the Yang Elder a complicated look before he smirked. "Unsightly or no, his victories do speak for themselves, I agree."

Following the realization expressions around the council, I groaned internally. Of course the Ho trying to regain some Face for his family would assume the Yang were using me to free them from a disadvantageous marriage. 

In fairness, it made more sense than the truth, but still, Yang Jingji was abundantly clear with me that we were not even loosely allied. 

Then again, maybe 'useful tool' meant more to the Yang than to others. It was an oddly specific thing to call one's co-conspirator.

Noncommital sounds of approval and frustration emanated from most of the rest of the assembled Elders, until finally the Sect Master spoke up. "Then it seems to be settled. Guang is now accepted as an Inner Disciple. Appoint someone to get him settled and to teach him manners that won't get his head torn off in less dignified company. Guang, you are dismissed."

I bowed respectfully and started to step backwards when Raka's voice interrupted. "A moment, before you go, young Guang."

I chose to commit the technical faux pas of breaking my bow to the Sect Master to turn and respectfully address him "Of course, Honored Elder."

"During our preliminary discussions, it was brought to my attention that you have a respectable talent for Talisman Arts. I've been looking for a suitable apprentice for my own techniques, and I can teach you proper manners like few others in the sect could. What are your thoughts on this?"

I grinned inwardly as tendrils of subtle power slid off my thoughts without purchase. I truly owed Tong a genuine gratitude over provoking my paranoia and causing me to anneal my new mind with the foundation of defense from these sorts of attacks.

"I am deeply honored to receive such a lofty consideration, Honored Elder. It is more than I dare claim to have earned with my meager skill. I deeply regret that I cannot accept an apprenticeship, on account of already being apprenticed to Master Smith Ho Yin."

"What!?" Ho Kiang shouted. "She wouldn't dare!"

"While I understand your surprise, Elder Ho," I spoke calmly. "I politely beseech you to not malign my Master thusly."

I knew, deep in my heart, that my love for seeing a noble almost physically choke on being told off about their manners was going to get me killed or worse some day. But sweet heavens was it going to be worth it the entire way to that grave.

Raka chose to cut off any further amusement I might provoke, saying "I see. A pity, then, but I trust you have good reason for your choices. That was all."

I bowed and stepped out of the chamber. Turning around, I saw Master Smith Ho standing nonchalantly nearby. 

"Congratulations on your promotion, Guang." she smirked. "Now it's time to get to work."

"Gladly, Master." I smiled easily and followed her to the smithy.

Other than the odd calmness of the replacement of her usual antagonizing demeanor with a redoubling of her exacting expectations, the afternoon of laboring was fairly uneventful. She did, in fact, expect me to have an unreasonable mastery of the techniques I was physically capable of using from her gift, and thanks to the same overstudy advantage I'd already demonstrated with my first blade, I was able to elicit her approving scowl of irritation despite her newfound tolerance for me.

Seven hours of deliciously taxing labor after insulting the sect Elders, she allowed me to leave with a very patient senior brother Hulang to move my belongings from my outer hills hut to a vacant mountain top in the intensely ki-rich inner sect territory. Some light probing confirmed that I was among an incredibly small number of non-noble individuals to ever get accepted as an Inner disciple, and almost alone in being accepted without the explicit backing of an Elder. 

Hulang himself admitted to feeling that I should have been executed instead of promoted, but chose to believe that the Elders knew what they were doing and that my life in the inner sect would be brutal and short. Not least of which, on account of the higher expectations he was almost eager to tell me of. 

Where outer disciples were largely left to their own devices regarding how and how much they would contribute to the sect, with the implicit threat of being devoured by their peers if they slacked off, inner disciples were expected to reliably contribute more than all but the most dedicated outer disciples, and for those contributions to align with demands of the sect, usually as decided by one's Elder backing.

Not having a given Elder to tell me what I was expected to contribute, Hulang looked forward to me falling behind and eliciting censure, even moreso when I inevitably faced another Inner disciple and was laid up long enough for it to be inexcusable.

I thanked him for the dutiful warning, as is my habit, and then set about organizing my belongings in the small house I was given to dwell in. 

Well, small by sect standards. It was larger than my childhood house by at least twice again. In fact, it was almost as large as a small American house, despite feeling larger with it being empty. 

I was drinking in the subtle 'homey' essence of the place to more easily allow my cultivation to account for it and to assist in attuning it to myself when master Ho knocked at the door.

"Ah, Master Ho. Welcome, the tea is almost ready." I greeted her aggravated visage calmly.

She looked for a moment like she would strike me down before sighing and stepping inside. "I trust we can doff the formalities, then?"

"Certainly." I smiled. "My obfuscation technique may be simple, but I've yet to find someone who can hear through it."

"Knowing I might still be your enemy?"

"Fearing to trust someone just because they've tried, however passionately, to kill me would leave me a sad, shortlived wreck of a man." I chuckled. "Honestly, with my life, that's the part that insinuated interest more than anything."

Her humorless flat glare fell on me with a weight. "Do not even joke about that or I'll charge you with the cultivation arts Raka gave me for you."

"That was in poor taste, I admit." I accepted her rebuke. "But no, I have no irrational fear of you. Only that which your strength earns deliberately."

"Good." she took a deep, steadying breath. "I have a delicate issue I require help with, and you, being a professional blasphemer, are the best lead I've got."

My mental alarms all went off like crazy, and I started sorting them out to deactivate them appropriately as I poured the tea. "I'll gladly lend what aid I reasonably can, With complete secrecy, of course."

Another long minute passed as she gathered herself. "I know what my bottleneck is. I've known since I attained Silver Core. But I know that solving it would cripple me. Not to mention the disgrace upon the family and the sect that I'd become afterward."

I waited patiently for her to expound on that, very much hoping that it was going to be a more complex answer than the one she almost obviously feared.

"I'm possessed of a rare physiology." she finally continued. "Not something heaven defying or even all that impressive. My father was elated anyway and contracted a sealmaster to embed a protection into my flesh, to guard me against some opportunistic rival family exploiting its traits.

"The seal is my bottleneck. It was never meant to stay attached this long, and its structure is limiting my ability to refine Qi. I can't increase the density any further than I'm stuck at without the seal mistaking it as a foreign attack and paralyzing me."

I nodded that I was following. "The seal's release mechanism is marriage, then?"

"Yes." she sneered at her own answer. "And I can't stand the idea."

"I presume the matter fell on deaf ears when you presented it to your father?" The man had always struck me as particularly narrow-minded, even for a cultivator.

"He and the rest of the family insist that I'm exaggerating."

I nodded in sympathy. "Disassembling the seal is risky, and would be spitting in your family's Face. Marrying someone, no matter the compatibility, would be a betrayal of yourself. And leaving it unresolved will limit your growth and cause an early death."

"Exactly." she slumped. "You're the first insufferable bastard to show any sort of understanding."

I grinned at the compliment and stood to retrieve the main course of the dinner, Bitter Melon Salad. "How much do you know about the seal?"

"As much as I can without understanding a word of it. The sealmasters I spoke with all assure me that there's no safe way to trip it up, on account of it being a 'robust' mechanism."

"How complete does the designated husband have to be?" I asked after a moment of consideration.

Her mouth hung open with a bite waiting as she stared at me. "What?"

"If the key to the seal is a binding marriage, that means part of the binding runs through the husband. No cultivator worthy of you would tolerate a full-soul weave, as that has too many exploitation options, so your father wouldn't have been stupid enough to commission one that required it. So which parts of the soul need to be present for the marriage that deactivates the seal?"

"Middle dantian. Father was feeling sentimental, and wanted my eventual husband to have to genuinely feel for me."

"Then the answer is simple, no? You just need to form a second heart dantian, and bind yourself to yourself."

"What? No, first, making a new dantian?"

"Well yes. I suppose you could just extract one from an enemy in the upcoming war and use that, but that would require a number of demonic techniques to even attempt. But given that the dantian are energy reserves and interface points, it would be far more efficient to craft a second one, say, in the null resonance phase between the sternum and the lungs for security. Weave secondary meridians so that it fills with your own qi and emotional resonances. Externalize it for a simple, private ceremony, and then either incorporate it as a permanent fixture or gradually merge it with your natural one if that makes more sense for your path."

Her bafflement narrowed to a scowl, though not one aimed wholly at me. "You propose that I attempt a self-alteration that even the Silver Spire fools would declare impossible."

"Indeed. Far be it from me to declare them incompetent buffoons, but I am confident that you've mastered the fine control of your qi required for it. I've seen your steel work."

"Working steel and working one's own qi are wholly different matters, Guang."

"Are they? I hadn't noticed." I ventured a flippant grin. 

Her glare narrowed in calculation. "Your steel shaping. You extend your sense of self into the steel so that you can use your own cultivation arts on it. And you account for the differences by moulding your out-facing edge to match the steel." Her eyes widened as she reached the conclusion that she needed. 

"Thank you, Guang. That insight will serve me well."

"Apprentice is overjoyed to be of service, Master Ho."

The salad tasted much better as the conversation turned to the more mundane concerns of the planned war with Red Fist and the unplanned schism war, and our role in outfitting the Yellow Fang for both.

Chapter 9 Crafting and Selling

"I'd started to suspect you of delaying for poor reasons." Yang Zhao grinned as he tested the balance of his new axe. "I am glad to discover myself wrong in that."

"With how long I was left preoccupied, I cannot fault brother Yang for honest doubt." It had truly been far longer than courtesy demanded, between the numerous assassination attempts, Master Ho's refreshingly unreasonable training schedule, and keeping apprised and ahead of the demands upon my contributions to the sect. "I trust it suits your needs?"

"And then some!" he grinned. "It resonates with my Lightning qi almost flawlessly. You've outdone yourself!"

"I'm glad to hear it. The satisfaction of a Yang is something of a badge of honor for weaponsmiths."

"Rightly so." He nodded without a whit of humility. "One you've earned today. I expect many of our juniors will be coming to you after my next fight."

"It would be my pleasure and honor to provide arms for the Yang. Especially with our upcoming conflicts."

"I know!" His eyes ignited with battle lust. "I cannot thank the Sect Master enough for concluding that now is the time for war. I can already taste my breakthroughs."

I smiled warmly at his enthusiasm. "I shall cheer for brother Yang's victories and growth. Whether I am positioned near your side or at the forge."

His eyes locked on me and lit up with an idea. "Right! You might be thrown to the frontline by the offended Elders! Deployments allowing, stay by my side and I'll gladly partake of your enemies!"

My heart actually skipped a beat at how earnest he was. "Deployments allowing, it would be my pleasure."

"Actually, now that I'm thinking of it, I'll share the idea with our Elders too. Having a comrade who attracts enemies like flies to shit would be great fun no matter who is placed near you."

"Brother Yang is too kind!" I let myself laugh. "Even sparring with your kin has deterred enough of the foes that I've been quite comfortable."

"Bah! You should have been born a Yang! You've the battle-lust for it!" he asserted with a thump of his axe on the table. "I cannot call your price fair. How much is this weapon truly worth?"

I blinked. "I appreciate your honesty, brother Yang. I had set the price before benefitting from Master Ho's teachings. I have seen similar weapons charging as high as 30000 spirit stones, though I count that as inflated, myself."

"Thirty Thousand it is!" he nodded and pulled out a pouch. "I'll not have my blade sullied by unwarranted humility."

I accepted his reasoning graciously. The Yang were better than most, but nobility was reliably touchy about their money sense. He left, smug and satisfied with his axe proudly resting on his shoulder like he was begging someone to give him an excuse to use it.

Like the Yang tend to.

"You could have gouged him for sixty easily." Quan Mo, a fellow smith chimed in after a moment.

"Probably." I nodded. "But I could not have done so honestly."

"Sure you could have. You're apprenticed to a Ho. That by itself makes your weapons more valuable."

I shook my head. "I'm apprenticed to a Ho, not a pompous name-carried expert. Were my master to catch me multiplying the price with just her name, I'd receive a beating for every excess stone I charge."

"And you think you won't receive them for undervaluing her name?"

"What apprentice would dare claim to know all of their master's skills in just a hand and a half of months?" I retorted with a laugh. "Even I lack the hubris to say my work is worthy of her name as yet."

His face contorted with confusion before he shook his head and continued filing his material use. As Sect Smiths, even beginners, we had access to a wide range of materials to ensure we could advance our skills and equip the sect meaningfully. But because such an open resource pool could invite recklessness, we had to record and report every piece of material that we did not provide ourselves, so that the Master Smiths and Elders knew who to flog if supplies started running short.

Not that we'd had any problems with that lately. At Master Ho's direction I'd been illustrating the nuances of my attunement arts for everyone else to try copying, which nicely solved most difficulties that other smiths were having with making their materials cooperate. 

It also gave her a wonderful cover for mastering the back end of the arts herself so she could get working on marrying herself. Something that had not once passed my lips since that first dinner because I rather liked my head attached to my neck.

It had been remarked upon many times that our relationship looked less like a master and apprentice arrangement, and more like she was abusing her position to lay impossible demands on me at every turn. Which neither of us denied because except for me being me, that was exactly what it was.

Because I was me, however, I was able to use that wonderful excuse of a lesson plan to grow at a rate that terrified my detractors. Even before my as-yet unimpeded walk upwards in the raw power ranks that I was deliberately taking slow so I could make sure I was in full control of my might at every step, my mastery at the forge was such that it had only been eight months and I was already producing at Adept quality. 

Something that often took upwards of a decade for people who didn't have the ability to define themselves as a blacksmith. 

I'd made practical use of my Identity Core's flexibility, and had five foundation-identities that I found trivial to strengthen apace of one another. Wancan - Dinners, Duanzhao - Forge, Moshui - Ink, Fei Jiao - Flying Foot, and Nongmin - Farmer.

The last one also doubled as 'troll' or 'jackass' because as a cultivator, calling myself a farmer with the same word used to refer to peasants pissed everyone off. 

Not that I made a point of using my empowered epithets in common interactions. Not only would that be needlessly pompous, I'd explained -at length- the risks presented by my path and all the Elders agreed that it was not a teaching that should be shared with anyone weaker than the Divine Core realm. Above that strength, they argued that cultivators ought to be able to survive the Earth's rage without restrictions from Heaven.

The fact that they -one and all- believed that I was special in not having heaven hate me was mildly frustrating. But given that they were running a seedbed of poisonous teachings, I supposed it to be fair.

The schism war was simmering to obviousness, much to my irritation. It was well understood that weakening our neighboring sects was important before turning on each other so, other than a barely-hidden bounty on my head, the ordeal was still at the 'making allegiances and planning betrayals' stage. Which included a lot of people joining me for dinner. Either to try to poison me or to actually negotiate. 

Pro-tip when trying to poison a cultivator. Make sure that their qi-control can't neutralize your qi poison. It works so much better than watching him drain the goblet like Rasputin and smile at you. 

Not that I'm really complaining. I rather like not dying. All available data says there's better food this side of that transition. And some of the subtler poisons are wonderful fine control training aids on top of being able to weave the conceptual art 'cannot be poisoned at dinner' into my Wancan foundation. It'd take a long while to anchor properly, but with how easily I make enemies, it's bound to pay off wonderfully. Even more so after it starts working into the 'domain' of my nature as Wancan, where it'd start protecting others as well.

Incidentally, having taken note of how Tong Kai wove himself into his Flowing Dragon Realm technique, I was well on my way to replicating the effects. Much to the aggravation of the Tong family and the martial brothers who concocted insults so that they could declare honor duels against me. It wasn't complete yet -Tong Kai's hadn't been either, to my estimation- but even being able to shift ever so slightly without actually moving was an amazing advantage to add to my already erratic battle style, and I was never lacking for practice. 

I finished my own work for the day, mostly trivial resource production after the exertion of finishing Yang Zhao's axe, and started walking back to my house. The Elders who were openly trying to force me into censure had managed to argue my contributions into excessive amounts, but had failed to argue that I should be charged with things I was not known to be proficient in. So I often spent entire afternoons refining enough qi-infused metals to keep a dozen brother smiths working for a week.

After the second time that my tamper-evident seal had been broken and the metals replaced with poor quality stuff, I'd started adding a 'tag' feature to the seal and the ingots, and Brother Kong was flogged mercilessly when he was caught with my metal stashed in his house. Nobody had yet returned to that attempt at pulling me down. 

Senior Go personally appraised all of my herbs and Intent scrolls, so there had never been an opportunity for anyone to tamper with them. 

No, rather, nobody thought their life was worth tampering with Old Go's storehouse. He was apparently infamous for providing wounds that only the most senior medics could treat properly.

Truly an inspiration to us all.

My talismans were evaluated by Elder Raka, to his amusement by all appearances. Initially, one of the other talisman experts had been in charge of it, as the armory was kept separate from Old Go's storehouse for reasons hilariously outdated. 

The talisman expert had tried on several occasions to declare my contributed ones to be substandard, and had failed to account for my having energetically 'signed' each of mine. Which was understandable to a degree. Most talisman creators allowed for their handwriting, word choice, and preferred meter to be the proof of authorship, as even superficially replicating even the handwriting style of a cultivator was profoundly difficult. So nobody had to bother with deliberate signatures.

Y'know. Nobody who trusted people to leave their work and reputation alone.

After the lesser talisman expert was found to be not only willing to risk their Face, but inept enough to get caught doing so, Raka very eloquently verbally ripped the other man's ass open wide enough to make a hat and shoes of it and volunteered to handle the matter himself.

Truth be told, Raka was a wonderfully pleasant man to interact with. His criticisms were all very well reasoned, based on clearly understood principles, and delivered in a polite tone regardless of how emphatic the rebuke was.

Frankly, in company with any decorum, he wouldn't need the insidious speech techniques that he lined his tongue with. Except for his position being that I was a threat to what he valued of the sect, we got along rather well.

He and Tong had invited me for tea several times, and while they rather emphatically wished for me to sacrifice myself for the stability of the sect now that they recognized that I couldn't be manipulated with their arts, I had started to count them as people instead of merely obstacles. And a person wanting me dead was nothing to write home about.

"Hello senior Ling!" I called out to a tree that had wisps of killing intent and a much more telling frustration about it. I couldn't pick out her body or her Shen - the innate radiance of one's qi- but overexposure to ambushes whenever I stepped past the sect boundary had helped me hone the natural sense for killing intent that most cultivators eventually developed. And while the Ling family arts did a wonderful job of concealing their shen and muting their emotions, their minds still radiated in the same way that a mortal's would. 

Not nearly enough to go on in a fight, but picking out a frustrated woman's fuming as she stalked me looking for weaknesses was within my ability. 

And according to the flare of said frustration, I was accurate enough to be smug about.

The Ling were a bit of a hassle. Not only were they professional assassins, which meant that my best training preparation against them was how used to taking and returning blows I was -not an ideal method at all- but they also moved in squads, secure in the surety of each others' stealth arts that they could gang up on me without worry about attracting attention as long as they were each within a tier of me.

They'd actually nearly managed to do me in twice. With only the erratic motion of my knockoff Flowing Dragon Realm allowing my vitals to avoid their killing strikes long enough for me to flee to somewhere they'd face Face damage to finish me off, and my extensive familiarity with the medic arts allowing me to field-patch myself. 

Senior Sung, having been involved in my second near-death, explicitly forbade me from leaving the sect grounds without informing him. He'd tried to insist on me using the good sense of staying under the Sect Master's aegis by just not leaving at all, but I pointed out that letting would-be assassins practice on me within the gap in the protections would maintain the peace longer than acting like I was afraid of the inevitable war. And the longer the peace lasts, the more my allies will outpace my enemies. 

I did not bother stating that the longer the peace lasts, the longer I have to figure out how to flee before the rules and Face traps I'm hiding behind expire and I'm getting my bones ripped out by an Elder.

And that outpacing my enemies was finally becoming visible in full. Several of my noble-born followers were having great success in their climb through to Soul Core, and the common-born horde behind me was starting to enter the Qi Condensation tier. 

To the immense relief of our enemies, they did not then jump straight through to Soul Core like I did, but they were making visible progress in only the eight months they'd had which caused our enemies to worry greatly.

Contrary to my initial plans, this worry was translating to action against me specifically instead of being spread out amongst the group. From what the house servants and other spies I had could glean, the reasoning was of two parts. The first part was that if I was constantly either fighting for my life or recovering or being kept busy with excessive demands on my contributions, that I'd have less time to guide my friends and followers. With a corollary note that if they failed to kill me first, I could just create more commoner ascendants at will.

The second, and far larger, part of the reasoning was that I had insulted all of them so many times and gotten away with it that it was actively hindering their cultivation. 

Yeah, one of the critical flaws in Face-defined identity modeling for cultivators is that, as a cultivator, one has to cultivate the sense of innate superiority that they are qualified to speak to Heaven itself and tell it to get bent. 

I was no exception despite taking a more civil tone. I would not have been able to sit across from Heaven's authority and casually tell it that I wasn't taking its shit if I didn't believe, deep in my essence, that I outranked it.

Face culture seems at a glance to be an embodiment of this mentality. 'You dare look at me wrong, I have the authority to destroy your bloodline' and all that. But it's not. And it can't be. For the simple reason that Heaven has no motivation to give cultivators Face. Much the same way that nobility had no motivation to give disobedient servants Face.

There, I was an exception. And I suspected that several of my followers would be afforded at least a little Face simply for trying. Likely not much, but a little Face from Heaven is still more than most can claim to receive.

But even more than Heaven having no reason to do anything other than just force the new batch of mandates upon a cultivator to make them fit in the liminal space of being only partially immortal, Face culture allowed an insidious poison to infect a cultivator.

Because if one defined oneself based on Face, then even a small child of no might could fail to See the Face, and that would be a seed of doubt in the cultivator's soul. After all, if a measly mortal child could fail to recognize your greatness, how could you expect a fellow cultivator to see it? Or the world itself? The Earth? Heaven?

The short of it: Face culture only rewards cultivators who are surrounded only by toadies and corpses. 

So with me using Face culture as a shield while openly declaring the Elders as foolish children in my Eye, I've poisoned all of their cultivations with the truth that they have no authority that the world could acknowledge.

The fact that my cultivation was unimpeded by their own disdain appeared -to their eyes- as proof that the world bowed before me because it saw my Face where their eyes were blind. Which was driving them to unpredictable insanity in good order.

Part of this insanity, to my great amusement, manifested as trying to plant spies in my 'inner circle'. Something that everyone who could be mistaken as a part of my inner circle found hilarious. 

Brother Tun and Sister Fan had been taking pity on the poor would-be spies and explaining that I was my inner circle and that they, some of my favorite consultants for my more intricate plans, didn't even know how many plans I was using them for at any given time.

Brother Kesa and most of the others, meanwhile, took after me in messing with the spies while sharing helpful insights. They found it great fun, and checked in with me to make sure I knew what nonsense they were feeding the Elders through the spies. 

The excavation to the 'Grand Ink Temple' that Sister Fu concocted was an amazing shitshow, as she also leaked the rumor to Red Fist on my suggestion. 

Nobody died on either side, but everyone was suitably embarrassed by the ordeal of trying to 'cat dance' to open the temple I draw my heavenly authority from.

She'd been fending off challengers over that with enough aplomb that some of the juniors were calling her the Singing Beauty now that she'd finished the Body Refinement process.

I blinked as I reached line of sight to my house and one of my servants was waiting for me at the door. I wasn't expecting any guests to be waiting for me today.

"Honored Immortal." he bowed at my approach. "Honorable Elder Lee has brought a guest to meet with you."

"Thank you, Shi. How have they taken hospitality?"

"Elder Lee has taken the delay well, as he usually does. His friend has grown moderately restless in the quarter hour they have waited."

"Tea is ready, I presume?"

"Indeed. As well as a light meal."

I nodded and quick-changed to formal robes instead of my work ones as I steered myself to the meeting gazebo instead of my writing quarters. Having the trio of mortals attending the menial upkeep of the house had been the only way I had any leeway in my schedule, and they were benefiting from my indulgence as well.

"Disciple has been discourteous in being held up." I announced myself to my guests with a bow. "Elder Lee, it is a great honor to be surprised by your visit."

He waved the formality off with a chuckle. "I know well how full your schedule is, Guang. You need no explanation to me."

I nodded my gratitude before turning to the stranger. "And how should I call you, honored guest?"

"You may call me Kang." he answered with a sneer. "From how Lee speaks of you, I suppose I should be grateful you weren't carried out here on a stretcher."

"Junior has been trying to break himself of the habit of having his bones broken, but the concern remains valid in large part, yes." I answered the backhanded comment. "May I offer seniors a cup of tea?"

"Lee insists it would be worth my time, even." Kang's lips twitched slightly. Likely at how accurately Lee would have probably described my manners.

My attending servant provided the tea set and leaves before making himself scarce, and I set about the fine arts of an informal tea meeting. Not to be mistaken for a formal tea meeting or a proper tea ceremony. Nor for the basic hospitality of offering a guest a refreshment.

After all, Lee had waved off formality, but Kang was very clearly not here frivolously.

"You have servants but set the tea yourself?" Kang sneered an honest sounding question.

"I am in the process of teaching them the art of it, but they are not yet skilled enough to offer their hand to distinguished company." I answered easily. "And while they are but mortal servants, I find it wasteful to sacrifice the time I've spent teaching should they offend with a slip."

"And you find yourself in the Fang?" he scoffed as he accepted his cup. "I'd thought you were all battle fiends like the Yang."

I silenced my panic before it could reach my face and smiled easily as I sat. "One can enjoy the taste of fist and the taste of tea without conflict, I've found."

A slight lift of his eyebrow told me that it was not a novel thought to him, but also not one that he was expecting to find at this meeting.

We each took a sip of the tea while allowing our thoughts to sort. For me, that was a process of trying to figure out which other sect Kang was from and why the fuck Lee would invite a foreigner to meet with me specifically. 

"Ah!" Kang broke the silence first. "You live up to Lee's praise, Guang. I'd thought him to be exaggerating."

"When have I exaggerated about tea?" Lee laughed in faux offense. 

Kang paused for a moment before inclining his head "Fair point. I haven't caught one of your lies regarding drinks yet."

"Nor shall you! I keep my lies well away from the matter of drinks on principle!" Lee laughed again, betraying no worry over having his friend in such a politically charged position.

"If only you had such principles about other matters too. You could make alliances to benefit your family if you could be known as worth trusting."

"Whence comes the bile, old friend? I haven't lied about anything of import in months."

"I asked if you could set me to meet the man responsible for the Fang's sudden shift in stance this last year. Not some tea expert halfway through Soul Core."

I froze to avoid spitting a sip of tea out, swallowed carefully as Kang's attention turned back to me with incredulity, and put a civil smile on. "Were you looking for the Sect Master, who decides our stance, then?"

Kang looked over to Lee who was wearing a shit eating grin and nodded once at his friend who was catching up. Then he turned back to me. "You are the one who inspired the change?"

"I cannot claim full credit by any measure, but I receive a lion's share of it in most eyes, yes."

"Lee tells me that he knows only that you are the one who did it, but not how." His eyes narrowed slightly with a glint. "How did you manage that?"

"In large part, by doing most of it on accident." I admitted. "Elder Lee's informants are excellent, but they prioritize the collating of deliberate action with planned effects."

Kang's eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise before he grinned. "It seems I doubted you wrongly, old friend."

"You asked after little Guang here." Lee laughed. "I'd worry if you didn't doubt me!"

"It really is the sensible action." I nodded. "Elder Lee is one of terribly few who accept that I don't plan my impact, and he chooses to count himself and most of his family as allied to me."

"You may not plan it, but you predict it well enough to put my peers to shame." Lee chuckled. "Which is good enough for me."

"You gave Lee the insights that he brought to the Auction House, then?" Kang asked with the same narrowed eye.

"I do recall one of our conversations turning to the likelihood that armors and protective talismans would see a run of panic purchases as the Elders and Masters of the various rival sects notice the demeanor shift, yes. I posited that if he were to provide a few good quality defensive artifacts while looking for that price spike, he could expect aa significant profit."

Kang raised an eyebrow. "I fail to see how such an obvious insight could have caused his profits of late."

"I imagine he took the rest of the principles of price gouging to heart as well after he asked about them. Spreading rumors to the most panicky houses that wondrous life-saving artifacts would be for sale, making sure their equally panicky rivals are seen hearing the same rumors so that they bring out all of the funds that they can afford to spare, if not more. Having an agitator outside drunkenly declare his hopes lost upon seeing them, stoking their egos to recklessness. Little things that pry money from the clutches of most any wealthy man."

"I see." Kang started to grin as Lee smirked. "You have studied the matter deeply to guide a fool like Lee to profits."

"I only answered a few offhanded questions provided by an honored Elder. Regardless of the credit he honors me with, he walked the path himself."

Lee laughed. "Don't worry about saving me face in front of this old bastard, Guang. He's been drinking with me too often for that to matter"

"Elder Lee," I smiled. "Has disciple given any indication of suddenly caring for unearned Face? I'm simply stating what you've earned, to my knowledge."

Lee was known to most of the other Elders as a powerful layabout. To me, however, he was the only one who was honest about his hedonism. Not precisely laudable, but still less self-crippling than his 'dignified' peers.

And his information network was truly impressive. We'd actually met as I was having people infiltrate it. 

"So. You have a sense of what your actions will bring upon the Auction House, yes? I should like to hear your thoughts." Kang asked with an air of false indifference.

I collected my thoughts and the data I had about the people who would likely shape the coming months. Now that I was fairly sure I knew who Kang really was, I was already working him into my plans on reflex.

"The concerns over the Fang's actions will likely keep growing the longer we remain on our path, as rumors are harder to bury than truths." I started, carefully not confirming that the plan was war and then schism. "With the way that the Fist and the Spire have long feared the Fang's potential for belligerence, that will see not only defensive artifacts, but weapons and cultivation aids climbing in demand, and therefore price. If I'm correctly informed about the demeanors of the other sects' families, this will also create a friction as they assume each other to be hoarding goods to survive whatever they assume the Fang is going to do.

"If the current unease lasts more than another five months, I expect that the tensions will start to create internal conflicts despite fear of the Fang, at which point I would expect disregard for the Auction House's Face to start arising in earnest. Likely starting with a young Spire Genius. If the Auction House retaliates, it will likely face retribution that it's ill-equipped to handle, despite its alliances and protectors. If it accepts the insult, it can expect to be subsumed by whichever sect survives the unease in the strongest position."

Kang tried to keep the scowl off his face, and did a damn fine job of it, objectively speaking.

"However, if the Auction House is alert to the possibility of some trumped up punk trying to weaponize their neutrality and exposes the ploy to everyone in attendance instead of allowing it to proceed, that would help solidify their position and strength even without throwing a punch. If they continue to navigate the political turmoil thusly, they could likely remain independent even should one of the three sects they border successfully destroy or subsume the others."

"Simply exposing the ploys? How would that not invite ire from the offending Sect?" Kang asked, forgetting his decorum slightly.

"Because a ploy exposed is recognized as personal incompetence. The sects each recognize that responding as a whole to a slap to one man's Face is a statement that they belong to that one man. Where an insult to an Elder can invite censure or destruction, revealing the ploy of a disciple will, at most, invite their family to respond. And any family that strikes against the Auction House will quickly find the rest of their sect staying their hand, especially if the Auction House maintains its impartiality. Neither of the smaller sects will be willing to risk being cut off from the armors and weapons that go through the Auction House over what amounts to one genius screwing up an attempt to insult someone."

"Ah! I see." his eyes lit up. "The Auction House's strength is that everyone needs it, so if it wields that strength as a shield without raising a sword, it can weather the upcoming war with ease."

"That is my understanding, yes. Turning each sect's need for its services into a motivation to stay their hands keeps the power of the Auction House entirely in its own hand, where relying on the sects fighting each other off would give power to whichever sect can claim it."

Lee froze and looked at me. "Guang." he politely demanded. "Did you tell me how to profit off the armors so that the Auction House would have goods that the Fist and Spire are desperate for?"

I smiled at the way he thought I planned things like this. "I merely answered your questions at that time, Elder Lee. The Auction House's benefit from your trades is simply a matter of their exemplary business acumen."

"You did!" he exclaimed his conclusion with a laugh. "You sly devil!"

Kang's eyes narrowed as he tried to conjure an explanation for why I'd want to keep his Auction House independent and strong. 

After a moment he caught that I didn't care about the Auction House itself and nodded. "The Fang won't be trying to subvert the Auction House, so your advice will only weaken your enemies. And the Auction House itself benefits immensely, so there is no reason they wouldn't listen. And for the life of me, I can't actually tell if you planned this or not. No wonder you have Lee dancing to your tune."

"Junior is flattered by Senior Kang's praise." I smiled. "I am just answering questions with my meager understanding. If it clarifies anything for Senior's path, that is a testament to Senior's greater comprehension."

Kang chuckled. "Whatever your motivation, I do appreciate the perspective. I confess, I arrived with the concern that you counted the Auction House as an enemy after the way Lee described your sabotage of so many of your foes."

"Not in the slightest." I shook my head. "The Auction House provides an invaluable service as a place my goods can fetch an honest price. Even if circumstances have prevented me from availing myself of the rest of its services."

"You've had someone selling your goods for you, then?"

"Indeed. Less so this past year, but I've had less tempting targets among my peers taking some of my lesser works to collect funds from the other sects and travellers."

He nodded in understanding. It wasn't exactly common protocol, but I wasn't in a common position.

"Lee, how long were you going to neglect to offer your insightful junior to come with you when you come to waste your money on frivolities?" he finally selected his words, catching Lee by surprise. "If nothing else, he could likely advise you on which drinks are worth your coin."

"Oho! That's a fine idea!" Lee agreed with the obvious plots without a second thought. "I'll stop by next month on my way out, how about that little Guang?"

"Disciple will attempt to have the day free." I smiled agreeably. 

Freedom to plant plans in the most trafficked city in the region. That was a wonderful harvest for my efforts.

Chapter 10 The First Strike of the War

One trope that I'd thought I understood about xianxia stories was the incomparable value of the auction houses. From simple buying and selling that alone is difficult to overstate why someone without the backing of a dedicated pavilion would find useful, to the ways that the auction houses had dreamt up to keep their nominal neutrality if they weren't sect-owned, to the secret backroom deals if you were recognized as 'worthy' of such illustrious contacts.

For something that had almost no value as a weapon to murder foes with, the theoretical value of access to a reputable auction house was apparent to me. 

And yet I still managed to underestimate my gain from Kang's gratitude.

My first visit with Lee was relatively uneventful. I was introduced to the procedure for putting something up for sale, learned that visiting cultivators have no sense of fiscal value -no seriously, none. I knew it was bad, but merciful heavens had I misjudged it- and became acquainted with the auxiliary services, like the retainer bidders.

While there was only one 'greater auction' per month, where treasures and rare materials were hyped up and sold to people who thought money grew on slave-trees, there were also weekly 'normal' auctions that were mostly aimed at merchants and craftsmen, featuring foodstuffs, common crafting materials, and low-quality medicinals, suitable to keeping a slave labor force intact. 

Retainer bidders existed to allow cultivators without dedicated shopping servants to participate by proxy without interrupting their routines. Having noticed them trying very carefully to catch the eye of lone cultivators and inquiring about them, I chose to employ one. I set up a formal account at the auction house, had my sale goods' profit added to it, and instructed him of the quality of materials I sought, the maximum to bid on each, and arranged for him to be paid his percentage at the end of each auction instead of when I came to collect.

The accountant I made the arrangements with asked if I had a good reason to trust the retainer, and I explained that I was simply of the opinion that a man should be paid for his labor, not the employer's profit. 

The show of trust that that constituted inspired the retainer, Hao Pen, to excel at his job, and I returned a second time with Lee to discover him beaming with excitement to show off a truly impressive amount of iron, steel, copper, and ink reagents that he'd managed to acquire for notably less than my maximum bids.

I asked after his methods and learned that he'd simply gone to the other retainers and the craftsmen who showed up and explained that he was trying to impress a cultivator who trusted him over nothing, and most of them agreed that it was worth it to see if other cultivators would try being so sensible. Especially after they heard who he was employed by.

And because he was an employee of the Auction House, most of my detractors were hesitant to just kill him for taking my money. Even before worrying about what traps that'd spring on them.

So I gave him a few pointers about how price-fixing could be done among the retainers and how to ensure the craftsmen received the materials they needed as well as I gave him my updated shopping list.

Naturally, my enemies, upon hearing that I was turning a profit in the auction house, sought immediately to deprive me of the metals and reagents by hiring their own retainers and ordering them to outbid mine. Hao was distraught at how his second month had nothing to show, but I laughed off his worry that I'd be upset and coached him in the bidding pattern to allow the craftsmen their needs while gouging my enemies.

Kang felt the need, as Master of the Auction House, to sit down with me during my fifth visit and confirm at length that I was not doing anything that would bring my enemies down on his establishment. We came away from that meeting with a nifty plan to make it look like he had grown fed up with me exploiting him, but was sticking true to his neutrality by only cutting me off from several of the auxiliary services that were reserved for trusted members only. 

Which everyone else would take as a significant blow to my plans, without hindering me in the least because said trusted members were majorily my foes in one sense or another.

Meanwhile, the mortal craftsmen and semi-independent experts who had seen prices skyrocket and then stabilize quickly learned through the rumor mill that I was deliberately manipulating things so that they didn't suffer, and had started contacting me through intermediaries to learn what my game was.

Then a Red Fist young genius was caught trying to antagonize one of his rivals by exploiting a combination of the Auction House's sales rules and a trio of travelling cultivators, and tensions racheted up abruptly, causing the Weapons Pavilion that most of the independent craftsmen worked with to panic and declare that siding with me was their best bet at survival.

The fuckwits.

I made the case before the sect Elders that while sub-ideal in timing, taking the nominally neutral Weapons Pavilion as a Yellow Fang asset would allow for better control of the flow of armaments in the long run, further securing the Yellow Fang's supremacy over the territory.

They agreed on that and immediately started bickering over whether to send me to the front lines, hoping to get me killed off by someone above Stone Core and risking the statement that I spoke for a meaningful portion of the sect or worse, that I controlled a meaningful portion, or whether they should hold me back where I'd almost certainly survive, but theoretically not be able to control the impressions upon our enemies and the general population.

Raka, the cunning bastard, proposed to send onlyme and several of my teachings' followers to 'defend' the pavilion, as they had declared loyalty to me, personally, instead of to the Fang as a whole, while "better trained" disciples opened proper hostilities.

Master Ho made the point that sending an apprentice would telegraph that I was my own distinct entity from the rest of the sect, which our enemies would capitalize on instead of falling to a unified Fang, and agreed to head the deployment herself, with the auxiliary note that she could better appraise the available stock of the pavillion than most.

The rest of the squad, fifteen common-borns who'd made it to Qi Condensation in the past year and two basic medics who'd taken to my company, kept pace with Master Ho in silence, terrified of her apparent foul mood as we marched. 

I, having had more than enough time to acclimate to her mannerisms, wondered how far she'd come in making herself a second heart dantian that she was so earnestly happy with the assignment, despite her disdain for the pavillion's sales policies.

We arrived only a day after the idiots made their decision to back me known, courtesy of one hell of a rumor network, and there was already a problem waiting for us. A trio of Silver Spire cultivators were menacing the proprietor at the doorway, demanding that he reconsider his decision.

"Guang." Master spoke tersely as she came within earshot of the mortals. "This mess asked for you by name. Clean it up while I handle the important part."

"Yes, Master." I bowed before turning to the trio of Stone Core foes. 

"Really?" I asked with an exasperated sigh. "You're half a tier stronger than me and you need to threaten a mortal with your hands on your weapons to get him to cower?"

"I'd heard you were a mouthy bastard!" the strongest of the three straightened up to visit violence upon me. "Are you prepared to die, 'Celestial'?"

Of course that blasphemy would stick around. 

"I was born a mortal." I flashed a grin. "How many of you wish to escort me?"

My lesser Flowing Dragon Realm poured out of my soul, overlaying on the physical space around me in the same span it took the man in front of me to draw and swing his large blade. I fell backwards, under his blade, then slid along my Realm so my feet were on his face and twisting.

"Oh come now!" I laughed as he recoiled in confusion. "You want to deliver me to Yama without being able to walk the spirit paths? Has no-one told you how obstinate I am about walking the path myself?"

His buddies drew their swords and started weaving their qi like Silver Spire cultivators tend to, guards up to prevent normal interference.

Instead of trying, I scooped up three rocks and tossed them in the air and laughed as they each stepped back on reflex, right into my line of 'fire'. 

The big guy glared at me and charged again, noticeably stronger and significantly faster from his buffs. The Silver Spire sect was infamous for direct status alteration. At the most basic level, this manifested as massive boosts to their own abilities, but if you were fighting multiple at once and they were skilled, you had to be mindful of their 'curses' hindering your abilities.

Their major weakness was the way that their arts didn't mesh well with more direct body and soul tempering, so they were more vulnerable than most to ambushes. Leading many to become hyper-aware of their surroundings to compensate.

My rocks having revealed these three to not be that skilled, I shift-stepped under the big guy's guard and slammed my fist into his armpit, popping the bone out of socket.

His backups, having finished their own buffs, circled around us and glared at their now-falling buddy who was doubling as a shield for me while he tried to get his bearings through the pain.

Well, not at him at him. At the fact that he was in the way for their attacks. Seeing their frustration, I decided to lend them a hand and slammed my elbow into his back to speed him to the ground and make him pass out.

The remaining opponent in the better position was already swinging as his leader cleared out of the way, and I had to shift as I fell to avoid the blade. So I kept the shift going to twist my leg between his and hook his otherwise very stable foundation out from under him.

The third caught what I was doing and caught me across the chest with a downward slash as his buddy ate shit, causing my arm to reflexively shoot out for his, allowing my continued fall to pull him off balance as I pivot-shifted with my Realm-motion to slam my knee into the back of his head.

Two out of three unconscious, and the remaining one now pinned under his buddy and me sitting atop them, I planted my foot on the back of his head -gently, so he knew it was just a warning to shut up- and sighed. "Really? This is what the Spire sends to try kicking off a war properly? Does no-one over there check rumors?"

"What are you talking about?" my footrest hissed. "You're the one who laid claim to the Weapons Pavilion!"

"No, actually. They did that without my input. Master Ho is probably beating them within an inch of death for it too." For as abrupt as the fight was, she had still vanished inside with the proprietor and doorman before I'd even tossed the rocks.

"Then why are you here if not to claim it?"

"Would you tolerate someone claiming your house's protection getting mugged? Regardless of whether you'd offered the protection?"

I could feel the cognitive dissonance radiating from him as he tried to come up with a retort, so I sighed and planted his face back in the dirt. "Waste your breath somewhere else. Pick up your cohorts and go report back that I didn't take the bait of killing any of you, or even maiming you beyond bruising your boss' solar plexus. If your masters want a war, they can declare it properly before I start killing their dogs."

I stood, putting my full weight on the man's head in the process, and approached the rest of the crew who were clamoring about how awesome I was in the fight. I raised an eyebrow after letting them get some of the hype out of their system and shook my head as they piped down.

I'd already advised them at length about the senselessness of getting invested in someone else's prowess, but the hype proved to transcend cultures in its pervasiveness.

Not that I really blamed them. Watching someone kick ass was great. And I knew for a fact that, having had the experience of punching up for decades and having more fights picked with me than most of them combined, I was among the most exciting fighters their eyes could (mostly) track.

"Now that everyone has their composure back, stick to the plan. Do not instigate anything. Do not crow about our greatness. Keep your eyes open for belligerents and calm the ones that can be talked to. This is not a glory seeking mission. This is Face Management. Act accordingly. Be better in essence than the people who won't be calmed." I ordered firmly, receiving bows of acknowledgement from all seventeen. 

One of the functionaries of the pavilion grovelled out to me as soon as the Spire idiots were out of sight, and I gave him the simple order to acquaint the squad with whatever internal security protocols the pavilion used so that they could act without tripping on poor communication.

Then I walked the perimeter of the grounds laying talisman traps as I went so that I wouldn't be flattened by the first Bronze Core jackass to attack. 

Aptitude in combat covered a massive raw power gap, but not everything I could reasonably expect. So setting the battlefield and controlling engagements was, itself, a life-saving common sense.

Nevermind that my vague recollections of The Art Of War had shaped my mentality enough that I called it common sense despite evidence to the contrary.

When I'd laid the first layer of personalized defenses I took a moment to lament the difficulty in crafting Arrays precluding me from setting up one that would be worth a damn and then followed a functionary who'd been waiting for me to finish my strange cultivator bullshit to lead me inside.

"Ah, there you are." Master spoke up as soon as I was ushered into the office. "Your evaluation of the position?"

"Tactically, a nightmare. It was obviously built with a complete trust in neutrality protecting it from dedicated assault. As long as belligerents approach seeking to claim it for themselves there's reasonable security as long as they are met outside by comparable strength. But a single overwhelming opponent would be able to approach from any angle and no measure I can concoct as yet will aid in deterring them. Aesthetically it's lovely."

The vein in her temple throbbed ever so slightly, confirming that she appreciated the comment in her own prickly way. 

"I'm glad you think so. You're going to be bait once Lung here makes the formal announcement that justifies our presence here. It seems you're personally responsible for this mess, after all."

I blinked, completely bluescreening on how the fuck this was my fault.

Not doubting it, just lacking any context.

Seeing my admission that it was not planned, Master's eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure. She loved every chance to demonstrate herself better informed than me, and I wasn't one to knock it. 

"It seems that after the Master of the Auction House openly chastised young master Xue He, it came out that you'd been meddling in their policies. Xue He then came here and threatened to exsanguinate Lung and all his employees if they didn't publicly declare their loyalty to you."

"Ah!" I abruptly caught up. "And nobody warned him how bad an idea this was?"

Her scowl deepened as she hid her laughter. "So it seems. And as you know, the rest of the Fist would rather die than suffer waiting, so there's no point in being merciful. We will both escort Lung to make his announcement and you'll start the war with his corpse."

"And then I'm to be available for any challenger who wants the prestige of taking me out." I nodded, barely holding back my laughter at the situation. It did, barely, outweigh my frustration.

"Indeed. If a Silver Core foe comes to challenge, I'll make them regret interrupting me. Otherwise you can handle them easily. Everyone else can handle crowd management and the mundane security."

'Easily' she says. It really was like she still wanted my head.

"Understood, Master." I bowed to hide my flush at the compliment.

"Excellent. Lung will have his paperwork ready for the City Lord shortly, we'll head out immediately afterward. Finish setting your disciples up and we can get this war started."

I bowed and left the office to follow orders, meeting her and the visibly distraught Lung at the door half an hour later. I didn't bother reassuring the panicking mortal that anything would be alright. 

This may not be a post-industrial war like my last life was trained to fear, but monstrously powerful people were still going to be fighting with little discrimination and no concern for mortals. I wasn't going to lie and tell him things'd be okay. 

Sure, I was charged with protecting him and his business. But I couldn't guarantee my own hide would be intact.

The City Lord, a Bronze tier cultivator himself, heard out the situation after only a minor amount of posturing -only half an hour of making us wait on top of the formalities- and comprehended the situation's inevitability without any difficulty. 

He did bristle that Master Ho was stationed within his city, but accepted that she would be leaving everything of importance to me, only being on-scene as a technicality to insist that I was still a mere disciple of the Fang despite having been called out as though I were a rogue Elder.

He also did appreciate my suggestion of having Lung make his announcement at the local arena so that when the idiot provoking me stepped forward, we were already in the appropriate venue.

We also talked briefly about how he could minimize the inevitable damage to his city by streamlining a process for my enemies to approach me directly instead of waste time trying to draw me out by assaulting his residents. He couldn't afford to simply point everyone my way, as that'd be equivalent to using me as a shield even if everyone was actually looking for my fists, but circulating rumors that he was offended by my presence and would look the other way as long as nobody took their fight too far would help him immensely by itself.

That it would also encourage the attacks to come from cultivators who were below his own strength -to avoid changing his stance, if nothing else- was about as much benefit as I could hope for. 

And then we were allowed to move to the arena, who gave the City Lord a convincing amount of deference as he explained what was happening and came to terms with the arena master for interrupting his normal business flow.

Terms that included me not getting the traditional cut of the betting. Totally expected, but funny nonetheless.

The bookies flew into action while the ongoing fight wrapped up, and I caught Master flicking a ring at one of them out of the corner of my eye. 

And then the fight was over and the arena master made a big old deal out of interrupting the proceedings to push Lung into center stage to announce that, having come under physical assault over unsubstantiated rumors by members of both Silver Spire and Red Fist, it was his decision to, with the blessing of the Yellow Fang, pledge fealty of the weapons pavilion to the Fang who had sent Master and me to defend them without any promise of reward.

Thus fulfilling the aggressor's demands of declaring themselves protected by me while not costing the sect any Face.

"About time you expose yourself for a proper fight, Celestial!" a voice rang out from the challenger's tunnel. The functionaries had been looking for Xue He from the moment the arena master agreed to the ploy, specifically to allow this to play out with only one casualty.

"If I wanted a proper fight I'd go find a grumpy Yang!" I called back as I jumped down. "I'm here because a child started throwing a tantrum and his parents aren't alive to beat him themselves!"

The crowd gasped as the idiot froze. It was well known that Red Fang cultivators were stronger the angrier they were, and I opened by going right for the Face and the throat. 

Because I knew the nature and weakness of that strength, courtesy of Lee's spies.

"Ha." his face twisted in elemental rage. "I thought this would be difficult! But you're suicidal!"

"Please, you saw an unguarded Immortal and stopped thinking, like the demonic dipshits you emulate. Don't try to pretend you're a functioning human after corrupting yourself this far. Just pounce like the animal you are." I laughed despite being able to feel his strength creep up toward the peak of Stone core.

This wasn't going to be easy, but my victory was guaranteed. My survival, not so much, but he'd lose before he killed me.

After all, the Red Fist were demonic cultivators. Immense power, corrupting qi, and a penchant for straight up devouring souls made them a nightmare to fight, but if they ever got too mad while fighting, well.

I slid along my Realm technique as his axe closed in on my skull and tutted. "Really? A straightforward attack right after being called an animal? Even my friend's dog knows to go for a feint when it's insulted. How do you pretend to call yourself a cultivator with less combat sense than a bitch?"

A blood mist started leaking from his skin, laced with demonic qi that would poison and kill anyone without the appropriate foundations unless they had pinpoint-accurate qi control or a heavenly artifact capable of purifying it.

More relevantly, it also burned away flesh, to maximize its chance of infecting a soul.

Weaving around his enraged swinging of his weapon, I made a point to tut and wag my finger at him to make it look like I was having an easy time keeping ahead of him. 

I was, but the appearance was more important as his rage and mist kept growing. 

"Really? This is all you've got? Delicious immortal soul right here in front of you and you can't even take a bite? No wonder you're an orphan. I'd die of shame too with such an impotent son."

His eyes locked on mine and I got to watch as they darkened and his qi flared black and red. 

I was not expecting him to be so unstable over the orphan thing. But I'll take my wins where I can get them. Now the hard part.

The now demonized cultivator roared and the sound itself harmed the people in the audience as I drew my spear and grinned despite myself.

Unlike demonic beasts, driven to madness by normal, if incidental, qi flooding their souls, demonic cultivators danced with essences that even western earth natives would recognize as truly demonic. And this came with an iconic cost -the safety of their soul.

Demonic Qi deviation was a sure-fire way to have one's soul consumed by the fundamental destructive power that made demonic cultivation tempting to many. 

So Xue He was dead, down to his soul. Consumed by the mockery of a proper demon that stood in front of me leaking existential destruction despite only holding the strength of an early Bronze core cultivator.

Demonic qi did have limits based on the strength of it's host. Not that that helped when the qi itself was the greater threat.

I tossed a talisman behind me as my foe charged me, then slid out of the way as he swung and ran face first into the flame blossom as it exploded. He shrugged it off, but was blinded by it long enough for me to stab him in the head.

That didn't take him down either, but it did confirm that I had a chance. Had his skin hardness reached Bronze tier beside his muscles, I was fucked. As it was, I just had to wear down a monster made of pure destructive rage that was leaking soul poison.

No pressure.

It adapted slowly, falling for blinding flames another two times before turning to strike where I'd been stabbing it from. On the fourth clash I let it think it got me just long enough for a Lightning Vines talisman to activate and let me stab it in the eye. 

By the seventh clash, its miasma was covering enough of the arena that I had to dedicate a lot of attention to planning out our movements. It wasn't game over if I got poisoned... Probably. But I still would much rather test that in a controlled fashion instead of while fighting for my life.

I caught the briefest of breaks when a Wind Blade talisman revealed that qi-reinforced wind could disperse the miasma, at the cost of the qi falling to uselessness after only a few inches. 

Taking a gamble and praying to the wind spirits for their forgiveness, I spun up a variation of my smithing circulation and tuned my out-facing qi to match the ki of the air. Reinforcing it and, as I dodged yet another attack, fending off the thinnest of the miasma around us. 

With that bare defense, I was able to keep ahead of the axe that would absolutely have ended the fight if it caught me at any point. 

"Pin him with the spear."

I didn't recognize the voice that whispered directly into my ear, but it struck me as a good idea anyway, so with a Bright Flash talisman disorienting the faux demon, I jumped and slid upward before driving it back down with the full might of my Piercing Thrust.

Because yes, I bothered practicing the most iconic technique of spearmen.

My target twisted as it felt my attack incoming, so rather than the heart I was aiming for, I had to punch through his sternum and put even more force into taking it down, but I managed it, then discovered why the advice arose as the air in my wake slammed into my fallen target, ceasing its breath and its techniques.

"You did that if anyone asks."

I nodded my understanding of the instruction and said another silent prayer to the wind spirits, this time of gratitude.

Then I stood, pulled my spear out of the corpse and looked up at the crowd that was staring at me.

Fuck it, I either just started or preemptively ended a war. 

I raised my spear in victory and drank in the resulting adulation and chaos as the silence broke like a fallen teacup.