Waterstrider

Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS

Once Orion had prepared our forces, we had split into two groups and immediately went our separate ways. Rather than taking an aero, me and the ten martial artists I had brought with me simply jogged through several neighborhoods to reach the Feng Gang’s territory. We walked past their street toughs, heading straight for Lao Feng himself. He knew we were coming, and we faced no obstructions. I could be quite brazen when I wished to be, I thought.

If I was being truthful, I would have had to say I was looking forward to fighting him. I had not had a proper fight with a martial artist of my level in months, unless one were to count the occasional spar with Jihan.

Personally, I did not feel that a spar could be considered in any way equivalent to a real battle. It lacked the true sense of pressure and energy that was unique to a life or death scenario, and one was unable to go all out. There was a reason that young martial artists raised by forces needed to be tempered with real battles before they could turn their knowledge into capability. Back on Canvas, many forces such as the Downpour Sect would send their disciples into the world on missions, creating situations where they would have no choice but to fight with one another and with fiends.

There was a reason that my home continent had been called Crucible.

The neighborhoods controlled by the Feng Gang were extremely impoverished, even more so than the slums the Redwater Sect was located within. These were the sort of places the Hadal Clan allowed other martial forces to hold, but I knew it was not mere chance that the Feng Gang’s territory would look like this. It told me that whoever was managing their territory was only considering short term gains, with little thought to the long term. I knew that I had been blessed to acquire talents like Kein, Ran, and Cinto as subordinates, though that was also in part because Rachel had chosen the Redwater Gang very specifically as our initial target.

I wondered if the Feng Gang’s plan was to discard this area and move themselves to another set of neighborhoods by pushing out the local gangs at some point in the future. Unfortunately for them, they would not receive the opportunity to do so.

Over the months of training, the former gangsters who had joined the Redwater Sect had been trained into a legitimate force. While none of them had any sort of prodigious talent, they could be considered true martial soldiers, and were not an embarrassment to the sect. As they followed me through the streets of the Feng Gang’s territory, they kept mostly expressionless, and my red-robed figure flanked by a large group of black robed individuals intimidated all of the mortal passersby, the crowd splitting to allow us to pass.

This was all, of course, a great show, a display of force. It was designed to raise the image of the Redwater Sect. Regardless of how the negotiations and battle went, some of the public’s attention would return to our force. Ran would be able to take advantage of this to further improve our finances. If I was able to claim the Feng Gang’s entire territory, our reputation would skyrocket.

The gang’s headquarters was a large building that took up almost half of a block, and someone had placed a large signboard with the gang’s name on it atop the building’s hatch. As we approached, the hatch slid open, and a beautiful woman wearing the clothes of a courtesan greeted us demurely.

“Good taste!” noted Rachel, her words only heard by myself. Personally, I felt the woman was revealing far more skin than was proper, but I did not intend to dispute the matter.

She wasn’t actually present, or at least her illusion was not. Since I and Jihan would be acting publicly away from the sect, we had felt it was best that the sect seem to have at least one Elder present to intimidate potential enemies. I felt given the current situation there was little chance of this, but it was better to be safe.

“The Great Master will see you,” she said, her eyes to the floor.

I couldn’t tell whether she was scared of me or whether she had been trained not to meet one’s gaze. I sneered at her words, my opinion of Lao Feng dropping even further. What sort of person wanted people to call him ‘great master’? One was not truly great unless they achieved immortality.

“Lead the way,” I told her.

She bowed to me, and I followed her inside. I was honestly surprised that my subordinates had been allowed to follow me inside so easily. It seemed that Lao Feng was a confident individual.

It felt like every time I went to find a gang leader, they would be enjoying themselves in a bar area. I supposed that was the nature of those who chose this path. They lacked the drive or capacity for further growth, stifled under the firm grasp of the Hadal Clan. Had I not met Rachel, I might have perhaps met the same fate myself. More likely, I would have simply died long ago.

The room quieted upon my entrance, my appearance immediately recognizable even to the drunk martial artists before me. Under the senses of my soul, I could immediately ignore most of those present. There were six core formation practitioners under Lao Feng, attracted to a force run by such a powerful individual, but only three were currently present in the room.

Even if I had not used my soul senses, I would still have been able to instantly recognize Lao Feng. After all, he was relaxing on a couch at the back of the room surrounded by a crowd of beautiful courtesans. He looked like nothing if not the very image of a lecherous old monster, though his appearance was merely that of a man in his middle age. As I approached, he laughed, finishing his conversation with one of the scantily clad women, and downing a cup which undoubtedly contained liquor. He then stood, raising his arms as he walked towards me.

“So the great Riverfiend has come to meet with this lowly Lao Feng! To what end, I wonder?”

He laughed, and the gangsters surrounding us laughed as well. From the corner of my eye I could see nervous expressions fill the faces of my subordinates. I smiled at him, the very image of an upright martial artist.

“You are too humble!” I said. “Of course, I have heard much of the great Lao Feng’s talents. So much that I felt the desire to witness them myself. You will humor this wish, I hope?”

The other man’s eyes narrowed, parsing my words. They were likely no surprise, but they did restrict him slightly, unless he decided that he didn’t care about his reputation. The room was filled with onlookers. Unless he could kill everyone here, word of what occurred would get out. While he would be able to acquire benefits if I died, this would likely restrict him from attempting to perform a sneak attack. My wish was for us to fight one on one, as I felt such a battle would allow me to make better use of my advantages.

“You’re not a simple one, Riverfiend, but you’re also not the most sly. You’re like me. Our talents lie solely in the domain of combat and progression.”

I did not dispute this matter. It was a fact. While I had long learned that careful thinking and consideration were the keys to success and survival, I had never considered myself to be the calculative type.

“Should I take this as an agreement?” I asked.

Lao Feng shrugged noncommittally.

“We’ll see. Come, let us have a drink before we fight.”

He waved to one of the courtesans, and she quickly grabbed a bottle of rice wine, pouring two cups and offering one to the both of us. Her hands were shaking slightly, a matter which did not surprise me. It would be unusual for a mortal to not be scared of a potential confrontation between practitioners at our level. I took my cup, glancing down into the liquid. It was a dark green in color, the surface slightly filmy. Something had been mixed in to give it such a color, but I had no way to discern just what that was.

He raised his cup for a toast, and I bumped my own with it. After that, we both downed our drinks. I felt the burn of the alcohol almost immediately, but mere alcohol could not truly get a spirit refiner drunk unless they wished it to. Some spirit refiners even drank diluted miasmic poisons instead, claiming it even better than alcohol.

“You’re fearless, aren’t you,” asked Lao Feng, analyzing me.

I had been aware that the alcohol was a probe, but has chosen to drink it anyway. If it had been poison, I might have died then and there. After all, I did know that a poisoner of such caliber did exist on the station. I smiled back at him. His attempts to understand me also gave me more information on him. Combined with the knowledge I had previously held, I was starting to feel that I understood what sort of man Lao Feng was.

He was the kind of man who lacked a bottom line, yet was restricted by his reputation all the same.

“We’re indeed the same,” I said. “Aren’t we?”

He laughed again, seeming genuine. He motioned to the courtesan, and she went to fill our cups again. The moment his was full, he downed it once more.

“I like you, Riverfiend! Fine then, if you wish, we can fight. But a mere spar would be boring, don’t you think?”

“I couldn’t agree more,” said. “How about we make a gamble?”

His eyes narrowed once more, his smile widening until the grin split his face in a manner that cast an intimidating shadow onto his tough countenance.

“So that’s it, is it?” He laughed uproariously. “Yes, let’s make bets! Let us bet it all! This will be fun.”

I couldn’t have agreed more.

Lone Practitioners: [While the great martial alliances rule the land, and the martial forces control their own territory, it is not uncommon for prodigies to emerge among the small martial academies, or who have survived the collapse of their faction. Some of these unlucky martial artists join up with martial forces as external elders, or resort to banditry. On Tseludia Station, the two main opportunities for a lone practitioner is to work for a PMC or to start a gang. Life is more difficult for these practitioners, but conversely, the difficulty often results in them acquiring more opportunities to make a name for themselves, not held back by reputation and the thin veneer of righteousness. The names of the greatest of the Lone Practitioners often gain the influence of a faction in their own right.]