Climbing the Ranks - Chapter 9 preview (Patreon)

On his feet, standing in the four feet of space between wall and the bed, Arthur set his feet. He was not a huge fan of unarmed martial arts – only idiots thought it was better to fight using ones hands than a proper weapon – but he still learnt it. There was a lot of times weapons just were not feasible – or your weapon broke or you had to throw someone or, well.

Lots of reasons not to have one on hand.

Which was why he knew how to throw a punch. Angle your body, raise hands to your chest and face height. Breathe in, on exhalation snap leg, hip, shoulder and arm forward. In that order pretty much as you dug in and pivoted, throwing backhand into a simple strike.

Of course, there was a new factor to this. He had to channel his chi at the same time, mixing it all together and pushing it forwards into a single, explosive blow. He’d reached the standing and punching part two days ago, managing to corall his energy and even learning to release it when he was seated. Cross-legged. After a good minute of concentration and release.

Now it was a matter of learning to speed up the attack, such that Focused Strike was actually, a strike. Then the next step, of course, was integrating it into his weapon. And then, well, more than a single limb.

Air shimmered, the explosion of power flaring around his fist as he finished the movement. He watched it dissipate, disappearing and Arthur could not help but grin. It worked. Only took him a second or so of concentration too.

“Yes!” Arthur couldn’t help but grin, doing a little jig. “Siapa terbaik? Me. I’m amazing!”

For a few minutes, he revelled in his success. Five days to learn the technique. He knew it well enough now that he no longer needed the scroll. If only it wasn’t keyed to him, he could have sold it onwards. Oh well.

No, five days was good. Problem was…

“I got to get going,” Arthur said to himself, slumping back down on the bed. He peered out at the tiny slip of a window high up in the room, one that showcased not a slip of light coming through. If not for the lights – spirit lights, powered by the same energy that ran through him - running along the edge of the wall, it would have been pitch black in his room. “Tomorrow morning…”

Then, his eyes drifted close as adrenaline and stubbornness that had kept him awake for most of the five days except for quick cat naps and moments when he had dozed off while meditating caught up with him. Arthur’s eyes closed and he fell asleep.

***

“Could have been nicer about throwing me out…” Arthur grumbled to himself as he strode out of the beginners village, skirting around the various tents that had been built surrounding it. The damn proprietor had woken him early in the morning and tossed him out without so much as a ‘good morning’. Then again, Arthur had to admit, he preferred that to losing another day.

Especially since his eyes were still gummy and his mind exhausted from the days of work. On the other hand, physically he was doing pretty well. One advantage of being a cultivator here, he guessed. It also helped that, being awoken early meant that most of the other cultivators were still resting.

Except for those three men who had strips of red on their arms, striding over to him. Striding with intent.

“Oh hell…” Arthur muttered, hefting his spear and glancing around. Seeing no way around it, he took off, headed for the woods.

“Oy! Berhenti!”

“Ting kuai dan!”

“As if I’ll stop!” Arthur called out over his shoulder, taking a moment to stare behind him. “Are you people bodoh?”

Idiots. Two of the people rushing after him were Chinese, one Malay. Not that it mattered what race they were, if they were just going to beat him, but it was strange to see that grouping in a gang. After all, racial lines were still quite prevalent, perhaps even more now when the government was struggling to pay for all the social programs they were giving out.

The forest line wasn’t far, thankfully. It didn’t matter how much the cultivators cut down, in this land, the wood had a tendency to regrow nearly as fast as they could chop. If not for the fact that there had been a clearing around the village proper, they’d have had to camp in the wood. As it stood, it was only a short sprint for him to get in.

The woods themselves weren’t Malaysian forests, which Arthur had to be grateful for. For one thing, these forest – more reminiscent of Hollywood forest with their tall trees and low underbrush – weren’t filled with dozens of plants with thorny edges, ready to rip skin and flesh apart. Probably fewer leaches too, though that might mean fewer berry bushes or tropical fruit.

Also, less underbrush meant it was easier to spot him, where in a proper rainforest he could take a few dozen feet in and disappear from sight. No, here, the trio of pursuers could spot him a good twenty feet away and give chase.

“Stop!”

“I’m going to kill you…”

“Yeah, that’s going to make me stop…” muttered Arthur as he ran. He wasn’t dumb nough to stop and he certainly had seen the pair of parang two of the men held. The third hadn’t bothered with anything that lethal – but a hard edged stick with a band of metal at the end worked well enough to break bone and crush skull.

“Come on…” Cursing, Arthur yanked his spear, watching as it got tangled up. His breathing was beginning to grow a little heavy, even as he ducked and ran deeper into the forest, desperate to escape the trio.

They kept coming and worse, they seemed to be catching up. In fact, one of their members; the Chinese with the parang was outpacing even his own friends, the gleaming edge of the long blade catching the light. Casting one last glance back, Arthur made a quick decision.

He spun around one tree, took three steps and then twisted, spinning the quarterstaff and setting himself. A mental count went off in his head, and as it hit one, he thrust forwards, blindly.

Part luck, part training. The tip of his staff slammed into the ribs of the man turning the corner, glancing off his hand to luckily plunge even more firmly into the man’s chest. Arthur felt something crack, just a small shock and release on top of the bigger shock of impact as his attack struck home. His opponent staggered back, recovering and raising his hand.

Only for Arthur to clip the fingers with a spin, cracking them open and sending the blade he held to the ground. Another quick flick had the weapon knocked away and before the man could do anything else, Arthur took off.

Leaving his opponent weaponless, gasping for breath and out of the fight.

One down.

But as the shouts from behind increased, he smiled grimly.

Two more to go.