"Man, that chicken wing really hit the spot," Xing Jue said with a satisfied burp, as he and Four-Eyes strolled down the path. "You know, you really need to relax a bit! Where's your appetite, man? It's like eating with a… with a…" He struggled to find the right words.
"A monk?" Four-Eyes offered helpfully. "A meditating stone statue?"
Xing Jue laughed. "Yeah, something like that! You're way too tense. Maybe we should work on that - after we get back from the Technique Pavilion, of course." He grinned, pleased with his plan. There was nothing like a little danger to help someone break out of their shell. And if things went south, well, it wasn't like Four-Eyes was going to be in any real danger with him around.
"But… why do you want to go there first?" Four-Eyes asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Those techniques and manuals, they cost a fortune! Shouldn't we focus on earning more points first? Maybe at the Training Hall?"
He had a point. The Heavenly Wind Pavilion didn't exactly give anything away. Want to improve your skills, learn a powerful new technique, get your hands on a coveted cultivation manual? You'd better be swimming in points, because it was going to cost you. That was why most initiates focused on completing missions first —hunting demonic beasts, guarding convoys—anything to earn enough points to buy their way into the good graces of the sect elders.
But Xing Jue had a plan. Or at least, the seed of an idea. And that seed was whispering to him, telling him to be patient, to bide his time...
"Just thought I'd take a look around," he said casually, waving his hand dismissively, as if it were of no real importance. Besides, the truth was… he wasn't really interested in the techniques available to Outer Division disciples. No, what he really wanted, more than anything, was to find a copy of that ancient cultivation manual, hidden deep within his memories. The Soul Devouring Scripture. He'd already resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't find it here, in the Outer Division's meager library. But still... it couldn't hurt to look.
The Technique Pavilion was surprisingly quiet. Rows upon rows of bamboo shelves stretched as far as the eye could see, overflowing with ancient scrolls and dusty tomes. Not exactly the kind of place to find a fight, but that was fine with him. Right now, he needed information more than he needed a good brawl.
Xing Jue spent what felt like hours scouring the dusty shelves, but it was no use. The Soul Devouring Scripture was nowhere to be found. He sighed in frustration; it seemed his instincts had been wrong.
"Find anything good?" Four-Eyes asked, his voice barely a whisper. He startled easily, did Four-Eyes. It was almost endearing. Almost.
"Afraid not," he said, shaking his head. "What about you? Anything catch your eye?"
Four-Eyes brightened. "Actually, yes! I found a couple of techniques - both Mystical Rank, early stage—but…" His voice trailed off, his shoulders slumping slightly.
"But what?"
"They're five thousand points… each."
Before Xing Jue could respond, Four-Eyes grabbed his arm, his fingers digging into Xing Jue's flesh like tiny vices. "Let's go," he hissed. "Now! They're here!"
"Who's here?" He followed Four-Eyes' gaze, scanning the crowd. "Those thugs from earlier? You sure? Don't worry about them, I'll-"
"They brought backup," Four-Eyes interrupted, his voice laced with panic. "I saw them talking to that big guy… the one with the beard. He's a Peak Warrior!"
Sure enough, a group of disciples had gathered near the entrance. Xing Jue recognized Scarface instantly, looking even more ridiculous than usual with his swollen jaw and missing teeth. His cronies flanked him on either side, their expressions wary. But it was the fourth figure, looming behind them like a hulking shadow, who gave him pause.
The big guy had to be at least seven feet tall, with shoulders the size of tree trunks and a thick, tangled beard framing a face that looked like it had been carved from granite. He emanated an aura of raw power, the kind Xing Jue had only ever encountered once or twice before. This wasn't going to be a casual stroll in the park.
"Well, well, well…" Scarface sneered, cracking his knuckles as they approached. "Look who decided to show their face. You forget to pay for your last meal, newbie?"
Xing Jue laughed. This was too easy. "You again? Look, I'm trying to enjoy my day off here. You guys really need to invest in a new hobby. What part of 'no' don't you understand?"
"You little…" Scarface's face flushed with anger, but he was smart enough to keep his distance. He'd learned his lesson. He leaned in close to the big guy, whispering something in his ear. The big guy grunted in response, his eyes never leaving Xing Jue.
"You deaf, kid?" The big guy stepped forward. They towered over Xing Jue. His voice was deep, rumbling like an earthquake. "Hand over all your points. Now. You'll make this easy on yourself."
"Or what?" Xing Jue's lips twitched. He glanced sideways at Four-Eyes, who stood frozen beside him, his eyes wide with terror. It was time for a lesson, then. Both for Four-Eyes, and for these wannabe tough guys who thought they could push him around. "You planning to make me?" He raised an eyebrow, meeting the giant's gaze without backing down. Challenge gleamed in his eyes.
Before either of them could react, the big guy launched himself towards Xing Jue. The force of his movements was like a physical blow, slamming into Xing Jue, forcing him to plant his feet and brace himself. "Tiger Fist!" the big guy roared. His fist, glowing with an almost tangible aura, blurred as it arced through the air towards Xing Jue's face.
Xing Jue sidestepped effortlessly, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face, as if he were bored. A fly buzzing around his head would have posed more of a challenge.
The big guy roared in frustration, his face turning a delicate shade of puce. He pivoted, his massive arms wheeling like a windmill as he battered the space where Xing Jue had been standing a micro-second before with a series of blows. His attacks were powerful enough to pulverize a small building, but against Xing Jue, they were as ineffectual as a gnat trying to knock down a skyscraper. Every attack, no matter how fast, how furious, was met with the same, infuriatingly calm, response.
Four-Eyes watched from a safe distance, his arms crossed over his chest. Interesting. He'd had no idea Xing Jue was this strong. It was obvious he was holding back, suppressing his true strength, keeping his Aura carefully contained. If he were a betting man...
He risked a glance at Scarface and his cronies. They weren't looking so confident anymore. It was hard to maintain a swagger when the guy you'd brought along to intimidate someone was getting his ass handed to him. Scarface was practically vibrating with nervous energy. The other two… well, let's just say they looked like they were seriously regretting their choice of friends right about then. They obviously weren't used to being on the losing side.
"Hold still, you little…" the big guy bellowed. He was starting to sweat now, his face glistening, his breath coming in ragged gasps. It took a lot of energy to maintain that level of brute force. He was strong, he'd give him that, but raw strength was useless without skill.
Xing Jue chuckled; he couldn't help himself. "Poor guy," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Is that the best you got? You want to hit me, go ahead. I'm not stopping you. But you're going to have to be a lot faster than-"
"Shut. Up." The big guy's fists clenched. "Fine! You want to fight dirty? I can do that!" He took a deep breath, gathering his strength, and charged. "Tiger Fist!"
"There you go!" Xing Jue's lips twitched in amusement as he raised his hand, effortlessly deflecting the attack. "So predictable…"
For a man his size, the big guy moved with surprising agility, his muscles coiling like springs as he launched himself through the air. He crashed into the ground with the force of a meteor, leaving a spiderweb of cracks in his wake. Dust billowed outward from the impact, momentarily obscuring him from view.
Scarface didn't even bother to hide his glee. "That's gonna leave a mark!"
The dust settled, revealing Xing Jue standing in the exact same spot, completely unharmed. He didn't even look winded.
The big guy stared at him in astonishment, his jaw hanging slack. "How… You…"
Xing Jue finally stopped toying with him. He'd had enough fun. A flicker of something dangerous… something cold and calculating—flashed through his eyes, banishing the amusement that had been lurking there a moment before. For a moment, he almost felt sorry for the big oaf. Almost.
"My turn," he said softly, taking a step forward.
The big guy didn't even have a chance to react. One minute Xing Jue was standing a few meters away. The next, his fist was connecting with his jaw. There was a sickening crack as bone met bone, and the big guy went down like a redwood tree felled by a logger's axe.
"W-warrior Adept…" Scarface stammered, his voice barely a whisper. He'd finally figured it out. Way too late to be of any use. His legs turned to jelly, nearly giving out beneath him as he slumped to the ground, every bit of bravado draining away, replaced by a cold, clammy dread. His friends weren't faring any better; they were pale as death, their bodies trembling, their eyes fixed on Xing Jue as if he were a vengeful spirit come to drag their souls to the Underworld.
"He's… he's a what?" One of them gasped.
"Warrior Adept, you idiot!" Scarface spat. "We're dead! We're all dead!"
They probably deserved each other, Xing Jue thought, watching the fear spread across their faces like a plague. He turned to Four-Eyes, a playful smile spreading across his face; he hadn't had this much fun in ages. "Your turn, buddy," he said, gesturing towards the unconscious giant with his chin. "Think you can handle it?"
Four-Eyes gulped. "You… you want me to fight him?" He'd never been in a real fight before. The thought of it, of actually hurting someone... terrified him. He looked from Xing Jue to the fallen giant, then back to Scarface and his cronies who were watching him with a mixture of fear and morbid curiosity. He felt a surge of… he wasn't sure what it was. Anger? Resentment? For the first time in his life, he wanted them to know what it felt like to be afraid. To be powerless.
But he'd never...
"You heard me," Xing Jue said. "I'll make you a deal. You beat him… well, let's just say I'll forget all about their… transgressions today. Deal?"
Scarface glanced up at him, his eyes wide with a mixture of hope and fear. "Y-you're serious?" He'd fight a rabid dog for a chance to get on the right side of a Warrior Adept. Even a skinny, weak-looking one like Four-Eyes.
"Absolutely."
"Deal!" Scarface blurted out, scrambling to his feet. He didn't even bother to haggle. "But, there's just one… one tiny, little condition. He…" His voice wavered, a nervous tremor running through his body. "He has to fight me… fairly. One on one. No… no tricks."
Xing Jue smirked. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. This was getting even better than he'd hoped. "But, there's one condition."
Scarface froze, his eyes widening. He had a bad feeling about this…
"He's not allowed to fight back."
The words echoed through the courtyard like a death knell.
For a moment, there was absolute silence. Then, all hell broke loose.