Chapter 4: Threads of Desperation
The sound of footsteps scraping against wet stone echoed softly as Li Jian and Li Xuan slipped through the narrow alleys, the flickering glow of distant lanterns barely illuminating their path. The Mud Lotus District was always quiet at night, but this kind of silence wasn't comforting. It was tense, thick with unspoken danger—like the city itself was holding its breath.
The brothers walked side by side, neither speaking as they approached their hovel. Li Jian's jaw was clenched tight, the tension radiating from his body with every step. His hand rested on the hilt of his dagger, his fingers itching to draw it, though he knew there was no one to fight. Not yet.
Li Xuan, on the other hand, kept his eyes forward, his thoughts heavy. Kai's words rang in his ears, louder than the quiet whispers of the slums around them. Spiritual roots, rituals, shortcuts. Everything came with a price, and in the Mud Lotus, that price was often paid in blood.
As they turned the final corner, their small hovel came into view—a crooked structure barely holding itself together. Li Jian let out a grunt, his frustration boiling over the moment they stepped inside.
"He's playing us," Li Jian spat, pacing back and forth in the cramped room. "That old vulture's just waiting for us to get desperate enough to beg. It's a scam. A setup."
Li Xuan said nothing, settling onto the mat in the corner and unrolling the tattered scroll again. His eyes moved over the faded ink, searching for something he might have missed. But the more he looked, the more it all blurred together—just lines and symbols, meaningless without the power to act on them.
Li Jian continued pacing, his steps growing louder, more aggressive. "How are we supposed to wait around and 'feel' Qi when we've got the Iron Eagle Gang breathing down our necks? How long before they find us?"
Li Xuan exhaled slowly, his voice measured, calm. "We need to be careful. Desperation makes you blind to details."
"Details?" Li Jian stopped, glaring at his brother. "The only detail that matters is that we're dead if we don't get stronger. This," he gestured to the scroll, "isn't working. We need something more."
Li Xuan met his gaze, steady but tired. "And you think Old Kai's 'something more' is the answer? That risky shortcut? You heard him, Jian. People die trying it."
"We're already halfway dead!" Li Jian's shout echoed through the small room, his voice thick with anger. "It's the only shot we've got, Xuan."
Li Xuan fell silent, his eyes drifting back to the scroll, the edges of the parchment curled and frayed. It wasn't that he didn't agree with his brother—part of him did. But the other part, the part that had always been cautious, knew that rushing into something dangerous could leave them in a worse situation. He closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind, but all he could hear was the sound of his own shallow breathing.
The next morning, the streets were alive with a different energy. Word had spread—someone had been killed. Lu Fengand his lackeys were making their rounds, searching for any sign of weakness, any hint of guilt. In the slums, a death wasn't unusual, but when the Iron Eagle Gang got involved, it always sent ripples through the community.
As Li Jian and Li Xuan made their way through the market, keeping to the shadows, the shift in the air was palpable. Merchants lowered their voices, eyes flicking nervously toward the gang members prowling the streets. Conversations were clipped, hands held tight to coin purses, and every deal seemed tinged with an unspoken threat.
At one of the market stalls, Li Jian caught sight of Jin Hu again—his hollow frame slumped against a wall, eyes darting left and right, always looking, always watching. He was hunched over, muttering something to a vendor, likely trying to trade a scrap of information for a stale piece of bread.
The brothers moved past him without a word, but not before Jin Hu's raspy voice floated after them.
"They're watching you, Li brothers. Careful where you step."
Li Jian's shoulders tensed, but he didn't look back. Li Xuan kept his head down, eyes scanning the market stalls ahead, knowing full well that everyone was watching. There were no secrets in the Mud Lotus, only whispers traded in exchange for favors and survival.
Later that day, they found themselves in an abandoned corner of the district, far from the prying eyes of the market and the Iron Eagles. The area was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city beyond, and the brothers sat on a small patch of dry stone, the scroll laid out before them once again.
Li Jian stared at it, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "What's the point? We've been trying for days, and nothing."
Li Xuan took a slow breath, closing his eyes. He'd felt something before—a faint brush of Qi—but since then, it had eluded him, slipping through his fingers like water. He thought about what Kai had said about spiritual roots. What if they didn't have them? What if the reason they couldn't feel Qi was because they weren't meant to?
"Maybe we're going about this the wrong way," Li Xuan said softly, his eyes still closed. "Maybe we're forcing it."
Li Jian let out a bitter laugh. "Forcing it? How else are we supposed to do this?"
Li Xuan's brow furrowed as he concentrated, slowing his breath, focusing on the air around him. He tried to listen—not with his ears, but with something deeper, something inside him. The scroll had mentioned feeling the flow of Qi in the world, the subtle pulse of energy that existed in all things. But every time he reached for it, it slipped away.
He shifted his focus inward, feeling the rhythm of his own heartbeat, the steady rise and fall of his chest. And for just a moment, he thought he felt it—a tiny flicker of something beyond his senses. It was faint, like the brush of a cool breeze on his skin, and then... it was gone.
Li Xuan opened his eyes, frustration creeping in. "I felt it," he muttered, barely louder than a whisper.
Li Jian's eyes snapped toward him, his expression sharp. "You felt Qi?"
Li Xuan nodded slowly, though he wasn't sure what he had felt. "It was there. For just a second."
Li Jian's impatience was immediate. "Then do it again. We need to figure this out."
"I'm trying," Li Xuan said, his voice tight. "But it's not something I can just grab. It's... different."
Li Jian frowned, his eyes dark with frustration. "Different how?"
Li Xuan opened his mouth to explain but stopped. How could he describe it? The sensation had been so fleeting, so faint, that he could barely make sense of it himself. It wasn't something physical, not like the strength in his muscles or the sharpness of his reflexes. It was more like an awareness, a subtle shift in the air around him, something he could feel but not touch.
Before he could answer, a soft sound caught his attention. It was faint—barely a shuffle—but enough to set both brothers on edge. Li Jian's hand was on his dagger in an instant, his eyes scanning the shadows.
Out of the gloom stepped a figure they recognized: Old Yao, the decrepit healer from the far side of the district. His face, lined with age and hardship, betrayed little emotion, though his eyes were sharper than his appearance suggested.
"Didn't mean to startle you," Yao said, his voice raspy but even. "Just passing through."
Li Jian didn't relax, though he didn't draw his blade either. "You don't 'just pass through' this part of the district, Yao."
Old Yao gave a small shrug, his weathered hands hidden inside his long sleeves. "Perhaps not. But I overheard a bit of your conversation. You're trying to touch the Qi, yes?"
Li Xuan's heart skipped, though he kept his face neutral. "And what if we are?"
Old Yao stepped closer, moving with surprising grace for a man his age. "I've seen many try to cultivate in these parts. Most fail because they think it's all about strength and force. But the Qi... it's like a river. You can't grab it. You must flow with it."
Li Jian scowled. "And you're suddenly an expert on cultivation?"
Yao chuckled softly, though the sound was more a dry rasp than actual laughter. "I've lived longer than most in this district. I've seen things. And I've learned that there are some forces in this world you can't control through will alone."
Li Xuan's eyes narrowed, studying the old man. He was always cautious, but there was something about Yao's words that rang true. "So what are you saying? That we're doing it wrong?"
Yao's gaze shifted to the scroll at their feet. "Not wrong, just... too direct. Qi is subtle, like a whisper. You need to listen to it, not force it to your will."
Li Jian opened his mouth to argue, but Li Xuan cut him off. "How?"
Yao's smile was thin. "That, I cannot teach you. But I can tell you this: start with your breath. Qi follows the breath, and the breath follows the mind. Still your thoughts, and you might find what you're looking for."
The old healer turned to leave, his movements slow and deliberate. As he disappeared back into the shadows, his final words lingered in the air.
"Be careful, boys. The Mud Lotus swallows those who move too quickly."
Li Jian let out a frustrated breath, turning to his brother. "You believe him?"
Li Xuan didn't answer right away, his mind still focused on what Yao had said. Listen to the Qi, don't force it. It sounded simple, but in a place like the Mud Lotus District, where survival was a constant fight, learning to listen was harder than it seemed.
"Maybe," Li Xuan said finally, his voice quiet. "Maybe we've been too focused on surviving to see what's right in front of us."
Li Jian looked skeptical but didn't argue. "Then we try again. But this time, we do it right."
Li Xuan nodded, though a part of him wondered if they'd ever find the balance they needed. The Iron Eagles were closing in, and time wasn't on their side. But for now, they had no choice but to trust in their instincts.
They sat down again, side by side, and closed their eyes.
They breathed.
The sound of footsteps scraping against wet stone echoed softly as Li Jian and Li Xuan slipped through the narrow alleys, the flickering glow of distant lanterns barely illuminating their path. The Mud Lotus District was always quiet at night, but this kind of silence wasn't comforting. It was tense, thick with unspoken danger—like the city itself was holding its breath.
The brothers walked side by side, neither speaking as they approached their hovel. Li Jian's jaw was clenched tight, the tension radiating from his body with every step. His hand rested on the hilt of his dagger, his fingers itching to draw it, though he knew there was no one to fight. Not yet.
Li Xuan, on the other hand, kept his eyes forward, his thoughts heavy. Kai's words rang in his ears, louder than the quiet whispers of the slums around them. Spiritual roots, rituals, shortcuts. Everything came with a price, and in the Mud Lotus, that price was often paid in blood.
As they turned the final corner, their small hovel came into view—a crooked structure barely holding itself together. Li Jian let out a grunt, his frustration boiling over the moment they stepped inside.
"He's playing us," Li Jian spat, pacing back and forth in the cramped room. "That old vulture's just waiting for us to get desperate enough to beg. It's a scam. A setup."
Li Xuan said nothing, settling onto the mat in the corner and unrolling the tattered scroll again. His eyes moved over the faded ink, searching for something he might have missed. But the more he looked, the more it all blurred together—just lines and symbols, meaningless without the power to act on them.
Li Jian continued pacing, his steps growing louder, more aggressive. "How are we supposed to wait around and 'feel' Qi when we've got the Iron Eagle Gang breathing down our necks? How long before they find us?"
Li Xuan exhaled slowly, his voice measured, calm. "We need to be careful. Desperation makes you blind to details."
"Details?" Li Jian stopped, glaring at his brother. "The only detail that matters is that we're dead if we don't get stronger. This," he gestured to the scroll, "isn't working. We need something more."
Li Xuan met his gaze, steady but tired. "And you think Old Kai's 'something more' is the answer? That risky shortcut? You heard him, Jian. People die trying it."
"We're already halfway dead!" Li Jian's shout echoed through the small room, his voice thick with anger. "It's the only shot we've got, Xuan."
Li Xuan fell silent, his eyes drifting back to the scroll, the edges of the parchment curled and frayed. It wasn't that he didn't agree with his brother—part of him did. But the other part, the part that had always been cautious, knew that rushing into something dangerous could leave them in a worse situation. He closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind, but all he could hear was the sound of his own shallow breathing.
The next morning, the streets were alive with a different energy. Word had spread—someone had been killed. Lu Fengand his lackeys were making their rounds, searching for any sign of weakness, any hint of guilt. In the slums, a death wasn't unusual, but when the Iron Eagle Gang got involved, it always sent ripples through the community.
As Li Jian and Li Xuan made their way through the market, keeping to the shadows, the shift in the air was palpable. Merchants lowered their voices, eyes flicking nervously toward the gang members prowling the streets. Conversations were clipped, hands held tight to coin purses, and every deal seemed tinged with an unspoken threat.
At one of the market stalls, Li Jian caught sight of Jin Hu again—his hollow frame slumped against a wall, eyes darting left and right, always looking, always watching. He was hunched over, muttering something to a vendor, likely trying to trade a scrap of information for a stale piece of bread.
The brothers moved past him without a word, but not before Jin Hu's raspy voice floated after them.
"They're watching you, Li brothers. Careful where you step."
Li Jian's shoulders tensed, but he didn't look back. Li Xuan kept his head down, eyes scanning the market stalls ahead, knowing full well that everyone was watching. There were no secrets in the Mud Lotus, only whispers traded in exchange for favors and survival.
Later that day, they found themselves in an abandoned corner of the district, far from the prying eyes of the market and the Iron Eagles. The area was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city beyond, and the brothers sat on a small patch of dry stone, the scroll laid out before them once again.
Li Jian stared at it, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "What's the point? We've been trying for days, and nothing."
Li Xuan took a slow breath, closing his eyes. He'd felt something before—a faint brush of Qi—but since then, it had eluded him, slipping through his fingers like water. He thought about what Kai had said about spiritual roots. What if they didn't have them? What if the reason they couldn't feel Qi was because they weren't meant to?
"Maybe we're going about this the wrong way," Li Xuan said softly, his eyes still closed. "Maybe we're forcing it."
Li Jian let out a bitter laugh. "Forcing it? How else are we supposed to do this?"
Li Xuan's brow furrowed as he concentrated, slowing his breath, focusing on the air around him. He tried to listen—not with his ears, but with something deeper, something inside him. The scroll had mentioned feeling the flow of Qi in the world, the subtle pulse of energy that existed in all things. But every time he reached for it, it slipped away.
He shifted his focus inward, feeling the rhythm of his own heartbeat, the steady rise and fall of his chest. And for just a moment, he thought he felt it—a tiny flicker of something beyond his senses. It was faint, like the brush of a cool breeze on his skin, and then... it was gone.
Li Xuan opened his eyes, frustration creeping in. "I felt it," he muttered, barely louder than a whisper.
Li Jian's eyes snapped toward him, his expression sharp. "You felt Qi?"
Li Xuan nodded slowly, though he wasn't sure what he had felt. "It was there. For just a second."
Li Jian's impatience was immediate. "Then do it again. We need to figure this out."
"I'm trying," Li Xuan said, his voice tight. "But it's not something I can just grab. It's... different."
Li Jian frowned, his eyes dark with frustration. "Different how?"
Li Xuan opened his mouth to explain but stopped. How could he describe it? The sensation had been so fleeting, so faint, that he could barely make sense of it himself. It wasn't something physical, not like the strength in his muscles or the sharpness of his reflexes. It was more like an awareness, a subtle shift in the air around him, something he could feel but not touch.
Before he could answer, a soft sound caught his attention. It was faint—barely a shuffle—but enough to set both brothers on edge. Li Jian's hand was on his dagger in an instant, his eyes scanning the shadows.
Out of the gloom stepped a figure they recognized: Old Yao, the decrepit healer from the far side of the district. His face, lined with age and hardship, betrayed little emotion, though his eyes were sharper than his appearance suggested.
"Didn't mean to startle you," Yao said, his voice raspy but even. "Just passing through."
Li Jian didn't relax, though he didn't draw his blade either. "You don't 'just pass through' this part of the district, Yao."
Old Yao gave a small shrug, his weathered hands hidden inside his long sleeves. "Perhaps not. But I overheard a bit of your conversation. You're trying to touch the Qi, yes?"
Li Xuan's heart skipped, though he kept his face neutral. "And what if we are?"
Old Yao stepped closer, moving with surprising grace for a man his age. "I've seen many try to cultivate in these parts. Most fail because they think it's all about strength and force. But the Qi... it's like a river. You can't grab it. You must flow with it."
Li Jian scowled. "And you're suddenly an expert on cultivation?"
Yao chuckled softly, though the sound was more a dry rasp than actual laughter. "I've lived longer than most in this district. I've seen things. And I've learned that there are some forces in this world you can't control through will alone."
Li Xuan's eyes narrowed, studying the old man. He was always cautious, but there was something about Yao's words that rang true. "So what are you saying? That we're doing it wrong?"
Yao's gaze shifted to the scroll at their feet. "Not wrong, just... too direct. Qi is subtle, like a whisper. You need to listen to it, not force it to your will."
Li Jian opened his mouth to argue, but Li Xuan cut him off. "How?"
Yao's smile was thin. "That, I cannot teach you. But I can tell you this: start with your breath. Qi follows the breath, and the breath follows the mind. Still your thoughts, and you might find what you're looking for."
The old healer turned to leave, his movements slow and deliberate. As he disappeared back into the shadows, his final words lingered in the air.
"Be careful, boys. The Mud Lotus swallows those who move too quickly."
Li Jian let out a frustrated breath, turning to his brother. "You believe him?"
Li Xuan didn't answer right away, his mind still focused on what Yao had said. Listen to the Qi, don't force it. It sounded simple, but in a place like the Mud Lotus District, where survival was a constant fight, learning to listen was harder than it seemed.
"Maybe," Li Xuan said finally, his voice quiet. "Maybe we've been too focused on surviving to see what's right in front of us."
Li Jian looked skeptical but didn't argue. "Then we try again. But this time, we do it right."
Li Xuan nodded, though a part of him wondered if they'd ever find the balance they needed. The Iron Eagles were closing in, and time wasn't on their side. But for now, they had no choice but to trust in their instincts.
They sat down again, side by side, and closed their eyes.
They breathed.