Yuanshu was still missing. I had no way of knowing if he was recovering from the spirit’s attack, or if he’d been swept up in whatever sect business had taken so many of the older brethren from the fold. What I did know is that it meant it was a lousy time to trigger such a massive brawl. We all crawled back to our huts, exhausted and aching. By the time I woke up, that pain had settled in with authority. Every part of my body was stiff, bruised, or swollen. Taking the Yang pill didn’t help; the reaction had lessened over time but the bruises seemed to reawaken it to its full, terrible potential. When it passed, I was covered in sweat and my fingers trembled as I assembled my disguises and stumbled out of the door.

  “Zhou Hou,” Ju Jing said, and I nearly punched him out of sheer, nervy reflex. My fist came up and he took two steps back, raising his hands as if he’d seen the motion. “My apologies.”

  “You—” scared me? No, that made me sound weak. “You’re here early,” I said, instead, dropping my hand and trying not to sound breathless and, yes, scared.

  “Ah. Yes.” He smiled a little, ducking his head. “I wanted to check up on you. I understand the fighting was intense last night. And I heard, ah...you were making sounds, when I arrived. As if you were in pain.”

  The Yang pill. At least I had a semi-plausible excuse. “Everyone in the sect was trying to beat me to a pulp last night and the healer’s gone. It wasn’t fun.” I looked him over. He was immaculately put together, and free of scuffs, bruises, or even scrapes on his hands and knuckles. “Almost everyone,” I amended. “I didn’t see you in the fighting.”

  There was a breathy chuckle. “I’d be an ill friend if I set upon you at the first provocation, wouldn’t I? Besides,” his shrug was careless, “what good would a written manual do me?”

  He had a point. I didn’t know how Ju Jing managed without his sight as well as he did, but whatever methods he had, I couldn’t imagine them applying to scrolls and books with their calligraphic text. But… “I notice you didn’t help, either.”

  “I didn’t.” There was no shame in his voice, or his placid expression. “Unlike your demon-blooded ally, or so I hear. I apologize for not intervening, but,” he fell to just above a whisper, “such brawls are a weakness of mine. There are too many moving pieces, too much chaos. It’s difficult to concentrate, and I feared that if I participated I would be driven to escalate things beyond the stakes.”

  “You mean kill people with that Art of yours.”

  His head came up, and his face tilted towards me, a rare direct turn. “Yes,” he said, simply. “I am not yet powerful enough to have the fine control I wish.”

  Gingerly, I reached out to touch his arm with one clammy hand. I needed a bath. He could probably smell me coming. He didn’t flinch as I made contact with fabric. “Hey. It’s fine. Can’t blame anyone for opting out of the madness. I would have, if I’d been given the choice.”

  “You should have been.” It was serene, but I saw the hint of a frown that revealed a deeper feeling. “Your friend was rude, to catapult you into attention without warning you.” The frown abruptly reversed. Lightly, he added, “Would you like me to kill him?”

  “What? No!” It was probably a joke, but it was hard to tell. “Zhuzhu was just being...Zhuzhu. If nothing else, it was great experience in, uh, mass combat?” In truth, I was having to reassess my view of my first and most complicated sect friend. I hadn’t taken him for a planner, but somehow, last night, he’d taken advantage of our lack of supervision to get everything he seemed to have wanted.

  Almost everything. I did remember that crack about not having broken limbs. I just wasn’t sure what it meant – whether this was his insane idea of toughening me up, or if there were darker motives. But what I did know was that right now, he was still more useful than threatening. And...I liked him. Despite everything. I didn’t trust him, but I certainly wasn’t going to try and have him killed.

  Ju Jing huffed in a way that suggested he disagreed with my view, but he didn’t question it or argue. “I suppose there’s value in that. Do you feel well-experienced, now?”

  “I feel like a floor mat in spring, beaten to rid it of all the winter filth.”

  “Poetic.” He inhaled, then added, “In that spirit—perhaps a bath might be more useful than breakfast. The baths should be nearly empty, and I can save you a bowl, if you like.”

  I froze. My avoidance of crowded baths had been noticed even by a blind man. If he found it odd, there was no hint of it on his face. Unfortunately, he was also right; I needed a bath desperately. “All right. Thanks, Brother Jing.”

  He chuckled. “So formal. Consider it done. And my apology for not joining the fray.”

  “You never had to.”

  “So you say.” He bowed shallowly. “I’ll meet you after breakfast, then.”

  Ju Jing had been right. Although the Outers had become comfortable enough that they would scatter throughout the day to their various pursuits, one thing that people rarely ever missed was breakfast. And the Inner Disciples rarely used the sect bathhouse. From what I could tell, they had leave to return to the city at will, with its collection of luxury bathhouses and brothels, and those of higher rank were rumored to have access to private baths. Possibly even hidden or extradimensional spaces, now that I’d seen Yuanshu’s teleportation array.

  So it was no surprise that the bathhouse, a misty cluster of rooms close to the inner sect, was deserted. I scrubbed off the night and pain sweat and even dared to unbind my breasts long enough to wash the bandages and check my skin for friction burns or other damage in better light than my hut provided. I had to do so by feel; I didn’t dare remove the talisman affixed to my thigh, and its illusion ensured that my chest retained the appearance of smooth pecs. I didn’t look lower—although this illusion wasn’t modeled on any real person, to my knowledge, it still felt somewhat prurient to examine a body that was not my own. I did note that the illusion didn’t cover my bruises. I was mottled with dark red marks that were swiftly turning purple, cobalt, and even something close to black.

  After scrubbing in the cold water, soaping and rinsing, I rebound myself and soaked in the hot pool. The heat penetrated my aching joints and began to unknot the battered tissues. I expected to feel more relaxed afterwards, even if I didn’t have any healing pills to take.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Instead, when I finished and dressed, my whole body was tingling. I felt heavy and overstuffed, as if I’d taken on water in the bath—or as if I were swelling against too-tight skin, like a seed in early spring, ready to burst through its casing. It reminded me a bit of the qi sickness I’d overcome not long ago, but that had made me nauseous and uneasy.

  Something about this felt...anticipatory. Expectant.

  I tried to ignore it as I ran to the pavilion. I wasn’t the only disciple to be feeling less than my best. More than half of the Outers were still there, hunched over their breakfasts, battered and swollen, while a few cinnamon-clad disciples looked on with mingled irritation and amusement. One raised an eyebrow at my lateness and nodded towards the serving table, which looked as if it had been devoured by ravenous demons.

  Luckily, Ju Jing wasn’t hard to find, and he had a second bowl for me, as promised. It was cold, the fat starting to congeal around the meat and making the rice greasy. I had eaten worse. I scarfed it down. Zhuzhu was already gone. So was the Older Koh, and a lot of the other large, strong Outers. Koh the Younger was still there, sitting down the table from us. He looked up when I sat down, turned red, and then ducked his head over his half-eaten bowl.

  “Hey, Koh,” I tried, gently. I wanted to tell him that I didn’t blame him. Or his brother. If anyone had gotten me into that mess, it was Zhuzhu.

  But at the sound of my voice, his red cheeks went pale, and he grabbed his bowl before fleeing. I huffed.

  “Give him time,” Ju Jing suggested.

  “It’s not his fault.”

  “He clearly feels otherwise.” Softly chiding, he added, “You are making a habit of telling people what they should feel bad about, Brother Hou. Perhaps allow us our guilt and regret, even if you do not understand it.”

  Ouch. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled around a hasty bite of rice.

  Ju Jing let his shoulders rise and fall like a wave lapping the shore of a lake. “I could say you don’t need to be. But it would be hypocritical.”

  I couldn’t help my chuckle, and it was echoed by him. The other disciples were all keeping their heads down and avoiding eye contact. Not just with me, but with each other. It appeared that last night’s brawl had shown everyone something about themselves they didn’t care to acknowledge in the light of day.

  “Hou. You’re late.” Almost everyone. I jumped nearly out of my skin at the sound of Kai’s voice, far too close. He’d managed to approach silently. His face was mottled with bruises like everyone else’s, but his black gaze was direct and irritated. “Were you planning to skip practice?”

  “No!” I protested. Or tried. With my mouth full, it came out more like a muffled moo from a distressed cow. Ju Jing made a snorting noise to my right and I kicked him in his ankle. I swallowed hastily, almost choking, before trying again. “No, I’m coming. I’m just running behind.”

  “Then run faster,” Kai snapped in return. He turned his head to study Ju Jing, who appeared oblivious to the scrutiny. “You’re the blind one.”

  I winced. Ju Jing only said, “That’s what they tell me.” A beat, before he added, just as calmly, “And you’re the demon.” His face was turned towards the center of the pavilion, making it nearly impossible to read his expression.

  Outrage flickered to life in Kai’s eyes...only to die to a sheepish recognition in the next moment. He just grunted in return. Then, “Do you wish to spar with us?” My jaw fell. Kai glared and added, “It’s better to have three, so one may observe and give feedback.”

  Now Ju Jing turned, his ear facing Kai. He couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice. Or didn’t bother trying. “I seem like a good choice for an observer to you, Brother Kai?”

  “I...you...never mind! Hou, I will meet you at the usual place.” He stormed away, hands fisted at his sides.

  I kicked Ju Jing again, but lightly. “I think he was trying to be nice. And, believe me, that’s pretty rare.”

  False innocence dripped from every syllable as Ju Jing said, “I was genuinely curious.”

  “Uh-huh.” I finished off the last of my bowl. “Thanks for saving me some food. Do you want to come? He wouldn’t offer if he didn’t mean it, and I wouldn’t mind.”

  His smile warmed even as he shook his head. “No. I actually study elsewhere during this time.”

  “Even with half the disciples gone?”

  “Indeed. My regime benefits from meditation in solitude. I appreciate the thought.”

  We stood up together to put our dishes away, and then I left him there, making his way towards the edges of the sect. He moved with confidence and I wondered, not for the first time, how he managed so well. If he was telling the truth about last night, there were clearly limitations to his coping mechanisms, but so far it hadn’t kept him from excelling. He’d been challenged twice that I knew of, and won each time. Without killing anyone or breaking out his unusual art. Unfortunately, I hadn’t witnessed the fights, but Zhuzhu had complained about not seeing it.

  It was something to think about as I hurried to meet Kai, certain that he was going to be irritated and that it was going to be taken out on me.

  I was right on both accounts, but between acquiring a whole new set of bruises, I learned a couple of new things. First: Kai was a rigid but accomplished teacher. His habitual contempt for the world faded when he concentrated, and his barked corrections for stance and movement were brusque but not vicious.

  He saved that for the actual sparring. Without being under Jian’s eye, he moved like lightning and struck like a viper, turning loose his inhuman strength and speed. In return, I did my best to show him why Jian had called that a bad idea. For every blow I took, I taunted and tempted him into over-extension, punishing it with a quick stab and retreat. I wasn’t trying to leave marks; by now I knew Kai well enough to understand that just being touched was a humiliation with a sting sharper than slicing his skin to the bone would have been.

  By the end, we were both covered in more sweat, and something had kindled under my skin. I burned with it, like a fever. But it wasn’t a sickness. I actually had more energy than before. When Kai called a halt, I made a sound of protest, continuing to bounce in place, and work through kata. The furnace inside of me was alight.

  Kai watched me, frowning. He tucked his blades up into his sleeves and said, “It appears that you are ready.”

  “Ready for what?” I ran my free hand through my damp hair. “I feel surprisingly good. Especially with last night. You want to go another round, maybe?”

  “No. And you should be meditating. Somewhere quiet and well-protected.” When I blinked at him, he rolled his eyes. “Tch. Can you not feel it, Hou? You’ve laid your spiritual foundation. I can practically feel the qi radiating through you, ready to open your perception and set you on the path. You need to channel it, or it will burn through you and leave nothing but a husk behind.”

  My foundation. The breath caught in my throat. It was what we were all working towards, the only thing that would make us worthy of participating in the sect trials, and only through the trials could we become a true disciple of Seven Striking Thunder. I knew that. But, somehow, in everything that had happened, I’d stopped thinking and worrying about when it might happen.

  When, it seemed, was now.

  “What do I do?”

  “I told you,” he snapped. “Meditate. If you are ready to become a cultivator, then you have learned enough to understand the glimmer of some greater law of nature. Understand it. Embrace it.” He turned away. “I understand it’s not a pleasant or safe process, so try not to die. I would find it irritating to try and find another sparring partner.”

  “I’d hate to irritate you,” I muttered.

  “Good.”

  He walked away, but paused when I called out, “What about you? Are you close?”

  Kai looked over his shoulder. “Who says I haven’t already crossed that threshold?”

  “If you had, you wouldn’t look so grumpy about it.”

  He snorted. “I’m close.” With that, he departed.

  And I hurried back to my hut, to become a true cultivator at last.