Chapter 2: The Slums' Lessons
Li Jian's fist clenched as they walked through the winding alleyways of the Mud Lotus District, his eyes scanning every corner, every shadow. He moved like a predator, always on edge, always ready to strike. Around him, the slums hummed with their usual rhythm—a quiet hum of deals being made, lies being told, and opportunities being seized. His brother, Li Xuan, trailed half a step behind, his gaze distant but no less observant.
They had been in these streets their entire lives. The district hadn't given them much—except a lesson they'd learned early on: trust was too costly to give away freely.
"Keep your eyes sharp, don't give them an inch," Li Jian muttered under his breath as they approached the marketplace, sidestepping a hunched old woman who moved too slowly out of their path. Her withered hand stretched out for alms, but Li Jian barely spared her a glance. He knew that even a moment of pity could cost more than they could afford.
Li Xuan didn't respond, but his face tightened. He didn't like the marketplace. It was full of faces—hungry, desperate faces—where smiles masked calculations, and every exchange was a trap waiting to be sprung. He adjusted the small packet of herbs inside his sleeve, careful to hide it from the curious eyes of passersby. They had something to sell, and in this part of the district, that made them targets.
They moved through the narrow paths between the stalls, stepping over muddy patches and discarded refuse. As they walked, they passed vendors shouting over each other, promising the best deals, each word dripping with the false assurance of a practiced liar.
A group of men huddled near a food stall, their voices low as they exchanged furtive glances. Deals made in whispers, alliances built on sand. Everyone in the district was looking for an angle, a way to come out on top. No one played fair.
Li Jian caught sight of their destination: a familiar stall, half-hidden under a sagging cloth canopy. Cheng An, a merchant with a reputation for bad deals and worse manners, sat on a rickety stool, his greasy fingers counting a stack of silver coins. His sharp eyes darted up as the brothers approached, a thin smile stretching across his face—an expression that held no warmth, only calculation.
"Li brothers," Cheng An said, his voice smooth but lacking sincerity. "What brings you to my humble stall? Surely you've got something valuable to trade today, hmm?"
Li Jian stepped forward, his face an unreadable mask. "We've got herbs. Clean, fresh, worth at least five silver."
Cheng An's smile didn't falter, but his eyes darkened with amusement. He leaned forward, extending a hand to examine the herbs, but Li Jian didn't let him touch them just yet. Never give your hand away too soon. That was something Li Jian had learned after a few nasty deals gone wrong.
"Ah, you boys are always bringing me such fine goods," Cheng An said, his tone dripping with false praise. "But these herbs… they look a little dry. Maybe three silver. And that's me being generous."
Li Jian's jaw tightened, but he didn't rise to the bait. He had expected this game. It was the way of things in the slums—always undercut, always cheated, unless you knew how to play back.
"Four silver," Li Jian said evenly, his eyes hard. "And we walk away with no trouble."
Cheng An chuckled, though the amusement didn't reach his eyes. "Trouble? Now, why would there be trouble, my young friend?"
Li Jian didn't blink. "Because we know Old Yao across the street's been looking for herbs like these. Maybe we take our business there instead."
The mention of Old Yao wiped the smile off Cheng An's face for just a fraction of a second—enough for Li Xuan to notice. That's it, Li Xuan thought. Show your hand.
Cheng An sighed theatrically, leaning back and rubbing his chin as though deep in thought. "Very well, four silver it is," he said, his tone thick with reluctant resignation. "But I'm doing this out of goodwill, you understand."
Li Jian handed over the herbs, watching as Cheng An passed them four silver coins, each one heavier than the food they'd been living off for the past few days. Li Xuan counted the coins quickly, making sure there were no shortfalls—another lesson hard-learned from previous dealings.
As they turned to leave, Cheng An's voice followed them like a bad smell. "Watch your backs, boys. Word is the Iron Eagle Gang is sniffing around for someone. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
Li Jian stiffened, but he didn't turn around. "Can't say we do. But thanks for the warning."
They walked away, hearts pounding, though neither brother showed it. Once they were far enough from the marketplace, Li Xuan let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"How do they know?" Li Xuan asked, his voice low.
Li Jian shook his head, his expression dark. "Doesn't matter. We need to lie low. Spend the silver somewhere far from here."
Li Xuan nodded, though his mind was already calculating their next steps. The Iron Eagle Gang was a problem they couldn't afford. They were smart enough to know when they'd been seen, and there was no telling who had ratted them out. Trust was a rare currency here, and if you had to ask for it, you were already too late.
The brothers made a few more stops at other stalls, each transaction a careful dance of haggling and subtle deception. They bought what they needed—dried meat, rice, bandages—but always kept part of their silver hidden, never revealing how much they really had. Appearances mattered here. If anyone thought they had more than they showed, they'd be robbed or worse before the sun set.
As they finished their last purchase and were about to head back to their hovel, a familiar voice sliced through the crowd.
"Well, well. Look who we have here."
Li Jian and Li Xuan stopped dead, their bodies going rigid. Slowly, they turned to see Lu Feng, a thin man with a cruel smirk and eyes that glittered with malice. He was flanked by two of his lackeys, both built like oxen, their arms crossed and their faces impassive. Lu Feng was a small-time enforcer for the Iron Eagle Gang, but his ambition made him dangerous.
"We've been looking for you," Lu Feng said, his voice low and mocking. "Heard you boys have been sticking your noses where they don't belong. Docks can be a dangerous place for... people like you."
Li Jian's hand twitched toward his dagger, but he didn't draw it. Not yet. "We don't know what you're talking about, Lu Feng. We've kept our business clean."
Lu Feng's grin widened, but it was the grin of a predator playing with its food. "Oh, I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. And the boss—well, let's just say, he doesn't like loose ends."
Li Xuan's mind raced. A fight here, in the middle of the market, would be a disaster. They were outnumbered, and the Iron Eagle Gang had eyes everywhere. If they fought now, they wouldn't make it out alive.
But Lu Feng didn't seem eager to draw his blade just yet. Instead, he stepped closer, his voice lowering. "Tell you what, boys. I'm feeling generous today. Maybe you come by and... apologize. Make things right with the gang. Who knows? The boss might even find a place for you."
Li Jian's lip curled. "Not interested."
Lu Feng's eyes flashed, but the smirk remained. "Suit yourselves. Just don't say I didn't warn you. The Mud Lotus has a way of swallowing up those who think they can play both sides."
With that, Lu Feng and his men turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving the brothers standing in the center of the market, their bodies tense.
By the time they returned to their hovel, the sun was already sinking below the horizon, casting long shadows over the narrow streets. Inside, the small room felt colder than usual, and the sound of dripping water from the leaky roof filled the silence.
Inside their small, damp hovel, the brothers sat across from each other. The scroll they had taken from the dead boy was spread between them, its thin, worn edges barely holding together. Li Jian, his jaw set in frustration, stared at the symbols and diagrams, as though sheer willpower could force them to reveal their secrets.
"We've been doing this for days," Li Jian growled, his fingers tapping impatiently against the floorboards. "Breathing exercises, focusing our minds, and still... nothing. Not even a flicker of Qi."
Li Xuan was quieter, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as he traced the symbols on the scroll. "We're missing something," he said, more to himself than to his brother. "Cultivators don't just stumble into this. It's a process, a gradual awakening."
Li Jian shook his head, standing up abruptly. "We don't have time for gradual." He began pacing, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "The Iron Eagle Gang isn't going to wait for us to figure this out at our leisure. They're looking for us, Xuan. We need power, and we need it now."
Li Xuan sighed but didn't argue. He knew his brother was right—time wasn't on their side. Every minute they spent fumbling with the basics of cultivation was another minute closer to a confrontation they weren't prepared for. Still, rushing headlong into desperation wasn't going to help them either.
"What about Old Kai?" Li Xuan suggested, looking up from the scroll. "He's been around. He might know more about this than we do. At least about cultivation."
Li Jian scoffed. "Old Kai's a gossip. He knows a little about everything but nothing about what we need."
"Maybe," Li Xuan admitted. "But even a little knowledge could be what we're missing. There's no harm in asking."
Li Jian hesitated, his jaw clenched. He hated asking for help. It made them look weak, and weakness was a dangerous thing to show in a place like the Mud Lotus District. But they had reached the limits of what they could figure out on their own.
"Fine," Li Jian said, grabbing his worn cloak from the corner. "But if he tries to gouge us for more coin, I'll gut him myself."
Li Xuan smiled faintly as he stood and followed his brother out the door. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."