The Jade Shadows Must Die [Cultivation LitRPG]

On cue, the announcer stepped into the ring. "Ladies and gentlemen, I've got one more Whisper fight for you tonight, and I know for more than a few of you, it's the one you've been waiting for." The energy in the air was palpable. "For in the Steel Corner, a titan of the Farm, a name whispered in fear and awe, the immovable object himself…give it up for the Farm's own Iron Hammer, XUUUU HAAAAN!"

On hearing his name, Han stepped up into the ring. Rix's stomach dropped. With weapon in hand and stripped to the waist for battle, the man looked even more intimidating than normal. He rested a brutal greataxe across his broad shoulders, one side bladed, while the top and bottom bore massive metal spikes. The weapon looked like it would come up to Rix's chest if he stood up.

The crowd roared their approval.

"He's the strongest fighter in this place," said the man next to Rix, reverence in his voice.

"I know who he is," Rix replied, without thinking. The man cocked his head slightly. Rix continued in a rush, "I mean, I've heard of him. I'm interested to see him fight."

In truth, the thought of watching Han fight inspired mixed emotions in Rix, excitement chased with fear. As much as he'd heard about the man, he'd never actually witnessed him in action. Not since he'd become a Martial Soul, at any rate. Rumour had a habit of exaggerating. Staring at him now, there was little doubt he was intimidating, but perhaps the mountain wasn't quite as tall as he'd been led to believe.

At least he hoped that was the case.

"And daring to stand before this tower of destruction," the Ringmaster continued, "in the Spirit Corner…welcome the nimble Jian Li! Will her speed be enough, or will she be another stone ground to dust beneath Han's heel? Let's find out!"

The woman, Jian Li, was slight and sharp-featured, with hair cut short just below her ears. She wielded twin Tatsuyan short swords, an unusual choice as far as Rix knew. Normally, people who dual-wielded went for something designed to both stab and cut. She seemed like she was trying to project confidence, but a slight tremor in her stance betrayed her nerves.

"She looks scared," Rix observed.

"She should be," the man next to him said. "She's a good fighter, for a Whisper. One of the better ones in here. But Han's a bloody wall and everybody knows it. Sure is fun to watch, though."

The Ringmaster's call to "Fight!" echoed.

Li exploded into motion, a desperate flurry of steel. Her bladework was sweeping and circular, and she flowed from attack to attack, letting her momentum dictate her movements. She darted in, slashing at Han's legs, then his arms, then his torso. Her blades, sharp and fast, were a silver blur, lashing out repeatedly like the claws of a wild beast.

But Han himself seemed utterly unfazed. His mantle flared a pale, almost invisible blue around him with the first strike, then shattered on the second. Yet, Han didn't even flinch. His skin, now seemingly exposed, rippled again; only this time it was a dull, stony grey.

"What was that?" Rix asked, frowning. "His mantle broke, but he's not even scratched."

"Ah, now you're asking the important questions," the older man said. "The technique's called [Stoneskin]. Nobody really knows how much it actually helps. Some say it does all the work. Others say it's just a decoy and put his durability down to a bleeding ridiculous number of points in vitality. Whatever the case, he doesn't even bother assigning mana to his mantle, because he doesn't need to."

The man was clearly right. Han just stood there, absorbing Jian Li's desperate assault, a cold, almost bored smirk on his face. He took a dozen quick cuts. Each would have left deep gashes on another Whisper, but on him, they landed with nothing more than a flat, percussive thud. She might as well have been hitting a rock wall.

Li was panting now, her initial burst of speed waning. She danced back, creating space, her expression shifting from fear to a sort of frustrated resignation.

Han cocked his head. "Is that it?"

That seemed to steel her resolve. Hefting her blades, Li surged forward again. Her swords became wreathed in a faint crimson glow — some kind of fire technique — as she lunged for Han's throat.

This time, Han at least moved. Not to dodge, but to meet the attack. His left forearm swung out in front of his body, [Stoneskin] still active. The flaming swords clanged against it, sparks flying. Jian Li cried out as the force of the impact knocked one of the blades from her grip. Han didn't even seem to register the heat, let alone the attack.

But the movement wasn't just a block on Han's part. It was offence and defence in one. His arm continued past her weapon, slamming into her chest and sending her flying back into the fence. The shield array flashed like pale green lightning as she slammed into it, leaving her momentarily dazed.

Rix felt something cold and sharp settle in his stomach. Han looked completely untouched.

"My turn, I think," Han rumbled, his voice a low growl.

Rix expected him to finally bring his axe to bear, but instead he left it resting on his shoulder and simply walked forward. There was no urgency to the movement. He came at her slowly, ominous and inevitable. By the time she regained her senses, he was already within range.

His free hand shot out, seizing her shoulder. She let out a sharp cry and tried to twist her way free, but Han's arm held firm. He had her now.

With casual ease, he threw her to the side, sending her crashing, once again, into the array with incredible force. This time, the impact sent her tumbling down onto the sand.

"He's toying with her," Rix said.

His compatriot nodded. "He tends to do that. I suspect he'd get bored otherwise."

"Does he even use his style?" Rix asked.

The man laughed. "Rarely needs it."

Apparently, Han had tired of the game. He finally shifted his axe from his shoulder, the movement slow, deliberate, full of menace. Rix realised he was about to see Han use an offensive technique for the first time, as the air around his axe began to flicker with dark red energy.

"[Sundering Impact]," Rix's neighbour said. "That's one to avoid, if you can."

Rix quickly learned why. As the technique finished forming, Han raised the axe overhead before bringing it down in a brutal strike. The axe bit deep into Li's side with a sickening, wet crunch. Even from the stands, Rix could hear bone splintering. Her body was driven down into the sand. She didn't move again.

Han watched her for a beat, then slowly lowered his axe, the point resting on the bloodstained ground. He turned to the prisoner's section and gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. It wasn't a salute of victory; it felt more like a statement.

"Told you," the man beside Rix muttered, shaking his head. "A wall. And a bleeding brutal one at that."

Rix's mouth felt impossibly dry. It was a terrifying performance.

"Does he have any weaknesses at all?" Rix asked.

The man shot him a knowing smile. "Planning ahead are we? Hmm, weaknesses...well, that depends on your perspective. Really powerful techniques can do some damage if they land somewhere vulnerable, but as you saw there, he tends to not be quite so casual when people bring those out. If you can somehow sneak one through though, you might scratch him. Can't promise more than that."

Rix didn't respond. He just stared at Han, at the casual, unshakeable confidence. The pit in his stomach deepened. Everything Tolson had said about the man was accurate. Compared to everybody else in here, Han was an entirely different category of threat.

And somehow, Rix had to find a way to kill him.

***

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

That night, the dream came again. It had become less frequent as Rix grew older, but still, a couple of times a week, he'd drift off, only to find himself back outside his parents' shop.

A large part of him hated having to watch the attack again and again. To relive your worst moment like that was an unfathomable torture. But, at the same time, it was an opportunity to see his family again, so in truth, he hoped it never stopped completely.

That day, he'd been on an errand for his father, dropping off an order to a local business. He often thought about what might have happened had he been in the shop instead. It didn't seem right that a chance event like that let him live when they didn't. It was insane to think he could have made any sort of difference — a mortal boy of just eight — but he found himself questioning it all the same.

He'd known something was wrong the moment he'd turned onto the street. Foot traffic in the Lantern District was constant, yet when he rounded the corner, their little segment of road was empty. The only people he could see were racing away, casting furtive glances over their shoulders. Several of the locals glanced at him with pity in their eyes, but everybody seemed too scared to stop or say anything.

As he drew closer to the shop, he heard the yelling.

"…just tell us!" It was an unfamiliar voice that seemed to vibrate in Rix's ears. It stung his head in a way he'd never felt before, as though the words themselves had edges.

"You've got everything," replied Rix's father, his voice pained.

This was followed by a crashing sound, something large being upended. The painful voice came again. "Are you certain?"

Rix's parents had warned him that a moment like this might come. Gangs ran unchecked in the Lantern District. Extortion and robbery were all too common. He'd been taught to run the moment anything seemed amiss. But he felt compelled to see.

With his heart a wild thrum in his chest, Rix crept around the side of the shop. It had a front window, but he knew somewhere safer to get a look — a small hole in the wall that faced into the shop. His father had been meaning to patch it for years.

When he looked through, his breath caught in his throat. The shop was a scene of brutal upheaval. Display cases were overturned, their contents shattered across the floor. His parents stood protectively before his sister Mei, who was a small, whimpering ball against their legs, clutching her stuffed otter.

And facing them were eight terrifying figures.

Even now, years later, Rix could see each one with agonising clarity. The tattooed giant, his bulk seeming to drink the light from the room, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. The woman with ice-white eyes that promised only winter. The silent, watchful man whose shadows seemed to writhe with a life of their own. The one whose very skin appeared to slither and shift as if it were a distinct living thing. And the twins in torn robes, their fingers long and twitching, faces covered in identical masks of dark ebony.

Then there were the Xus. Xu Sho, looking incongruously neat amidst the devastation, an air of bored authority about him. And beside him, a boy just a little older than Rix himself, watching with a sort of detached curiosity that was somehow more chilling than outright malice: Xu Han.

Rix could tell just from looking at them that they were figures of immense power. Martial Souls, almost certainly, for what else could they be? That thought made his blood run cold.

"Everything we had was in the strongboxes," said Rix's father. "You've got it all." The strongboxes were where his parents kept their money, as well as the shop's most valuable goods. Even Rix was never allowed to look inside.

The tattooed giant seemed to be in charge. He was the source of the painfully vibrating voice. "Do we, now?" he asked, a hint of a smile playing on his face.

His mother's eyes were wide. "You do. We promise." She lowered a hand and pulled Mei tighter against her legs. "Please, just leave us be."

Rix found himself clutching the bracelet that hung from one wrist. It was a simple thing, a leather cord threaded through several small wooden blocks. His father had given it to him when he was much younger. "To protect you," he'd said. Rix was old enough by that point to know it was just a trinket, but his fingers found it in that moment all the same. There was a sense of dread rising in him unlike any he'd felt before.

The giant made a show of considering the situation. He glanced at the twins.

"I sense nothing else of value," said one.

"A clean departure is all that remains," added the other. They both spoke the common tongue with heavy accents, almost guttural-sounding.

Rix's father opened his mouth to speak again, but then the world fractured.

One of the twins in torn robes suddenly blurred, their form stretching and snapping like a rubber band pulled too tight. A distorted, tearing sound ripped through the air, and the quality of light in the shop warped. Everything seemed to suddenly be bleeding at the edges, shadows rising like unnatural beasts. Rix's father cried out, shoving Mei further behind him as he stumbled back, but something dark and coiling, like a living whip of darkness, snaked out from the shadow man, catching his ankle and yanking him off his feet.

The giant laughed, the sound now amplified, echoing, as if coming from the bottom of a deep well, bouncing off surfaces Rix couldn't see. "Unfortunately, we cannot leave you be. You know that."

His mother screamed, backing further towards the corner, but strange, dark bubbles seemed to erupt from the ground, their surfaces shimmering like oil on water, muffling her cries into distorted, underwater gurgles. Rix could barely make out her form struggling within one, her movements slowed and nightmarish.

Panic, cold and absolute, seized Rix. In the chaos, he could barely tell what was happening. Why would such powerful people be robbing them? These weren't just thieves; they were monsters wielding some dark, twisted power he couldn't comprehend.

He saw the slithering man produce fire from his hands, the flame sputtering in the room's strange light. With a gesture, he set one of the shattered bookcases ablaze. Smoke began to swirl. Xu Han, the boy, took a curious step closer to one of the sound-muffling bubbles, a faint, unreadable expression on his young face.

The tattooed giant approached Rix's fallen father and produced an ornate curved blade from nowhere. It was the darkest thing Rix had ever seen. A black that seemed all but impossible. Through the din, he heard faint snatches of his father's voice, but with the flurry of techniques besieging the room, the words were lost.

The tattooed man raised his blade.

Rix didn't see what happened next. He couldn't. A guttural sob tore from his own throat, and he ripped himself away from the peephole. He wanted to barge through the door and leap to his family's defence, to be the hero they needed, but every fibre of his being screamed at him to run. This was an indomitable display of power, and all he could think about was escaping it.

He scrambled away, tripping over his own feet, a strangled sob escaping his lips. As he reached the corner, he risked a glance back over his shoulder. Through the front window, he saw the figures moving, flames already engulfing the shop.

Rix fled, the sting of his cowardice like acid in his throat.

***

With a night to sleep on seeing Han fight, Rix's dread gave way to a grim sort of resignation. He had already been operating as if Han was a monster. Now, he just knew what that looked like. He could let that terrify him into submission, or he could attempt to use it as fuel.

His first stop that morning was the commissary. He'd had Tolson smuggle him some rice balls so he could continue to skip breakfast. It was a temporary solution, but for now, he wanted to continue avoiding the prison population where he could.

The commissary was down an offshoot tunnel near the dive site. He rounded a bend to see what looked like a shop front with a slight woman manning the other side. Unlike most other prison staff, there was something vaguely wild about her appearance. Her short-cropped black hair shot off untamed in all directions, and her eyes were focused intensely on the bench in front of her, where she seemed to be engaged in some sort of alchemy. Vials and beakers and strange plants littered the bench in front of her, and Rix's nose was assaulted by a cacophony of scents, sickly and sweet and smoky all at once.

"Just a minute, just a minute," she said, as he approached. In her hands were a pair of tweezers, between which she carefully lifted a small glowing leaf. It was only about as big as Rix's thumbnail, but it sparked as it moved through the air like a fire spitting embers. He watched as the woman deposited it carefully into a test tube filled with blueish liquid before slamming a cork home on top.

"Now then," she said, finally turning her attention to him. "Name and prisoner number."

"Zao Rixian, 503," he said.

She flipped through a book that sat on the bench in front of her. Now that he wasn't distracted by the woman's work, Rix could see the shelves behind her lined with all manner of strange roots and herbs and powders and pastes. Were they all things available to prisoners?

"You've got fifty credits," she said, having found his name.

"How much stargrass will that buy me, mistress?" he asked. His conversation with Luna had got him thinking. It was better to be proactive than reactive. If he had the stargrass with him when he dove, he'd be ready to treat any injuries as they came up.

"Four blades."

"Is there anything else I should consider taking into the Fractured Realm?"

The woman looked him up and down. "New, are you?"

He nodded.

"With your credit balance?" she said. "Stargrass probably is your best bet. Whispers don't have access to much. You could consider a few sunberries too. Some divers swear by them, but others say they're more trouble than they're worth."

"Sunberries?"

"They numb you. They're basically an instant painkiller, which can be handy in a pinch, but it can also mean you push yourself too far and wind up dead before you even realise. The body hurts for a reason."

Rix weighed her words. He knew his propensity to push himself too far, which meant such a thing could be particularly dangerous for him. On the other hand, it felt like a good emergency button to have on hand, just in case. He told himself he'd be extra vigilant when using it, but he suspected that if it ever got to that point, caution was going to be the last thing on his mind.

"They the same price?"

The woman nodded.

"Okay then, I'll take one of those and three stargrass."

She fished under the bench and pulled out a fistful of vaguely luminescent blue stalks of grass. They were about six inches long and half the width of Rix's thumb. She counted off three and handed them to him, alongside a single innocuous-looking yellow berry.

"Just so you know," she said as he turned to leave, "your body can only process so much stargrass in a given period. Most Martial Souls find that only the first stalk is really effective each day. So you can't go nearly killing yourself over and over again and expect the grass to save you."

"Got it," he said. "How long does it take to work?"

"Not long, maybe ten minutes. It's not without cost, though. It'll burn your mana to heal you, and it's not a magic pill. It'll heal bruises, it'll help cuts close, it'll shave a few days off a nasty stab somewhere non-vital, but get a hole in your lung and you'd best get to the infirmary."

Rix nodded in thanks. "I appreciate the advice."

With several hours still left before dive time and breakfast in full swing, he took the opportunity to head to the training yard. If he was going to become a match for Han, he needed to work.