Soul of Blades - Chapter 64: A Qi -uick Death (Patreon)

“Was that a Dao, slave?" The man's lips curled back as he spoke, exposing clenched teeth, his words dripping with a venomous contempt so thick that clung to the air, a frosty dagger pointed directly at Alex.

The stranger stood tall, his gaze cold as ice as it swept over him. Alex, on the other hand, stood panting, his power significantly depleted after the intense battle with the Thundering Bull.

Alex looked to Mei, who had jumped down from the tree and stood frozen, a few feet away, barely having moved since her landing.

Her wide eyes were fixed on the stranger, a clear expression of fear etched on her face, and her body was stiff, fingers were pressed hard into the dirt at her sides. Alex felt them shaking, slightly.

He squinted against the sting of sweat dripping into his eyes to meet her gaze "Who is he?" Alex asked, his voice hushed to lowest of tones, just above the barest of breaths.

"He's... a cultivator," Mei responded, her voice low, trembling so slightly that the words seemed to fracture on the air. The term resonated within Alex. Cultivators: the mightiest beings in this and all realms, those who harnessed Qi to perform extraordinary feats.

The stranger chuckled at her revelation. "So, you know who I am. Good. That makes things easier." His eyes, squared with intensity, were fixed on Alex.

The dread of an unpleasant reality knotted in Alex's stomach as the man levelled a gaze at him, his hazel eyes alight with unspoken authority and undisguised disdain. Alex's hands balled into barely open fists, his fingernails pressing into his palms, ready to resummon his sword at a moment's notice. His chest braced with calm, rapid breaths, his shirt pulling tight across his back as he squared his stance, ready to respond or defend.

Dread became a cold discomfort that twisted in Alex's gut, a tightening noose under the man’s continued gaze, pinning him like a wolf in a hunter's iron sights. "Why do you call me a slave?" Alex’s voice was firmer now, though he fought to keep his breathing even. "What's a Dao?"

There’s no way I’m confirming whatever it is this arsehole is looking for, Alex thought with cautious contempt. At least not until I’m sure of whether the information will be a lifeline or a death sentence. Alex met the cultivators gaze.

A derisive scoff broke from the man, his arms folding with a snap of fabric, shoulders setting like walls. "Ignorance is a slave's mantle," he mocked. "I asked you a question. Do not evade it with more questions."

Alex hesitated, unsure how best to respond. What should he say?

Mei glanced at him, the same question mirrored in her eyes. "Alex..."

Alex, feeling the weight of the situation, considered his words carefully. "I just...acted on what felt right,"

His response was met with a contemplative hum from the cultivator. The visitor raised his eyebrows, his stare intensifying as he leaned slightly forward, as if to judge the authenticity of Alex’s statement. "Interesting. Your Dao resembles a cultivator's, yet it clearly isn't.

The man's eyebrows then knitted tightly as he peered at Alex. "How did you manage that?"

Sweat traced a line down Alex's temple, catching on his stubble before dripping off his chin. The evening's cool breeze whisked it away, leaving a fleeting coolness against his heated skin.

“And you don't even know what it is. Are you truly a system user? You wield mana, do you not?” The man's volume increased, nudging his sheathed sword towards Alex with each accusation, “You must be nothing but a system user. A tool. A slave.”

Alex bristled at the man's words, but there was a deep-seated unease coiling in his stomach. Confusion knotted itself further in Alex's brain. He nodded, hoping the affirmation might alleviate some of the intensifying tension. "Yes, I am a system user. But, what's a Dao? What exactly is a cultivator? And why, for the love of sanity, do you keep calling me a slave?"

A paranoid glare of disbelief shot from the man. "Are you mocking me?"

Alex couldn't contain the desperation in his voice. "I'm... I'm not. I'm just lost. I arrived in this land a short while ago and I'm trying to navigate this perplexing maze."

“Ah, a new invite,” The man sighed, the sound cutting sharply into the silence. The hardness in his gaze remained unchanged. “That makes sense, and yet it doesn’t.”

"You found your way to this world—Invited, somehow. Despite barely having even reached the one hundredth level." The man shook his head slowly, his disbelief apparent in the slight furrow of his brow.

He knows my level… He can see my status screen…and the glitches! Alex’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly in surprise, against his attempts to school his features and betray nothing.

If the man could see his status screen, then a confrontation of some kind was likely to be imminent. It made sense that the owners of the system had full access to its contents, although the glitched nature of his class selection had led him to believe his class had become somewhat hidden from thier gaze, as it carried no warning in its description. His class selection screen had also heavily implied the consequences of forbidden elements. And both his class and skills were likely full of them.

They had broken the system. He had broken the system.

A small part of him, some hopeful recess in the back of his mind spoke of the possibility of a peaceful resolution, that system glitches would simply be corrected or erased without harm to the system user that bore them. But Alex quelled the flames of those thoughts with the cold waters of rationality. From everything he had seen and heard of the imperials, that seemed highly likely. Extremely so. They destroy worlds on a whim, what’s the life of one guy to someone like that? He thought, his gut sinking further with cold acceptance.

Alex rubbed at the stubble of his chin; a false action. He placed his arm at an angle to summon his sword and stab at the man with minimal movement, should he decide to attack. It was what had allowed him to defeat the queen, though he was uncertain as to its effectiveness against the man before him. He assumed that he would not even be able to see the man move. So in addition to the defensive action, a plan had fully formed in Alex’s mind.

It was a plan that had been growing and developing from the very moment he realised the nature of the world he’d set foot on. A way to survive the encounter.

“Do I know you, somehow?” Alex asked, attempting to confirm his suspicion.

The cultivator’s arms crossed tight enough that the fabric of his sleeves stretched visibly, and Alex watched a vein pulse at the man's temple, “You have no idea how much trouble you’ve caused me, serf. Or how much trouble you could cause for me.”

“And yet I owe you so much.” The man continued, ignoring Alex’s question.

It’s not that he can see my status screen, it’s that he knows me, somehow. The knowledge caused Alex’s gut to sink. The only way this man could be aware of his existence was if the system had made him so.

“This class will result in imperial action.” Alex recalled the system warning from the more dangerous options of his class selection. His class, Systemic Sword Soveriegn, had held no such warning and skirted between the lines of legality, by what he had assumed was appearing to the system as its more mundane version ‘Eternal Sword Sovereign’. A camouflage of sorts— a Trojan horse of classes.

And yet here he was, facing an imperial that had hunted him down… Although the man’s last words implied the possibility of a personal element. He said he owes me much. Is it just him? Or are there more after me?

A deep sigh escaped the robed man before him.

"A cultivator refines their body and spirit to gain power using Qi. The Dao is the path a cultivator follows to ascend," he explained tersely, his lips pulling tight with each word, the muscles in his jaw working as he spoke. His face betrayed a mix of emotions. In one brief flash it held hatred and derision, in the other it held a wealth of begrudging respect, then in the next it held sheer fury and loss, and then finally it held… Gratitude?

“Gifts.” The cultivator continued, all instances of gratitude removed from his features, his face contorted into a sneer. "Gifts we of the empire have bestowed upon all of you, power beyond anything you would otherwise be capable of. All the power you have, you owe to us. You system users are nothing more than our servants, our slaves. There is no malice in the relationship, it is simply the way of the universe. Your magic is inferior. You’re bound by your system, while we cultivate the true arts freely, unhindered."

“And you? You are a mortal, and now a slave, made better by us through our gifts.” The man spoke softly, and yet his gaze remained hard.

"But I defeated a Thundering Bull," Alex argued, trying to defend his worth, more to himself, than this stranger. Alex knew he had achieved the impossible. Many would have died if faced with even a fraction of his circumstances. Perhaps even this cultivator.

"That's barely an achievement, slave," the cultivator scoffed, dismissively waving a hand. “But I will admit, you’ve exceeded anything I expected one of your kind to ever be capable of. And in far less than one year, too.”

“But I suppose that’s what makes your kind so dangerous.”

“I’m sorry— well, I’m not. But for the gifts your existence has bestowed upon my martial path, I will give you a chance, serf.” The man tilted his head, studying Alex as if to assess his worth. He seemed to not have a care, as if the possibility of Alex becoming a threat was far less than negligible. As if some change had occurred that had bolstered his confidence to heights unseen. And Alex sought to encourage this way of thinking as far as he could, aiming to stoke the flames the strangers arrogance until its embers touched the sky.

Then, and only then, would he use those very flames to scorch the depths of this cultivator's soul.

He thought of the tools available to him, his skills and magic were out of commission, on cooldown. But he still had his tools, his Dao, his blade, and the life-stealing gloves. And his inventory. He had been attempting to connect to it this entire time, using his stymied senses and dormant Inner Sense. He clenched his fists, feeling an onslaught of anger, frustration and helplessness. He had never felt them so strongly before. The feelings intensified then turned into a growing rage, targeted at everything. He raged at this world, at the unfairness of the imperial’s power, and at this cultivator. Most of all, he raged at a single word repeated throughout thier conversation.

He was no slave.

"But I'm not one to refuse a show," the cultivator mused, unaware of the storm that resided behind Alex’s impassive facade. The strangers eyes glinted mischievously at his next words. “I will test the limits of all that you have achieved.”

"We will discover if your system magic can stand a chance against a cultivator's power."

Alex stood his ground, maintaining his silence. He wouldn't beg for mercy. If it came to a fight, he'd do his best to kill this man.

Wondering how to survive this, he glanced at Mei. She looked from the cultivator to him wide eyed, and nodded minutely, while mouthing two words. Alex read her lips.

Mei, unblinking, mouthed the words “lose. Fast.”

Alex hesitated, considering her words. This was a dangerous game, could he say no? Didn’t cultivators value pride above all else? Perhaps he could forfeit after the first strike as Mei suggested? Feign injury and heal himself with his Dao. A pride obsessed idiot cultivator would not be able to kill him once he’d surrendered…right? He was sure that was how they operated. Pride. To them, it was everything. The cold from the earth beneath him seeped through his clothes, settling into his bones.

No, Alex thought. He would not delude himself, that was a thought that stemmed from fear, and fear was a choice— born from the acceptance of weakness. Alex was not weak.

Trust the plan, he thought again. To do anything less would be to invite his demise. He summoned Eclipse into his open palm, and settled into the third stance of Battojutsu, wary of its effectiveness against someone so powerful.

His mind traveled to ancient tales of gladiators, thrust into arenas where only one could walk out alive. And like a gladiator of old, he stood at a crossroads between honor and oblivion. His world shrank to the moment, to the narrow space between breaths as the metallic scent of his blade mingled with the earthy dampness of the forest floor, grounding him in the now.

His shoulders slumped slightly, the tension in his bones easing to nothing as he exhaled a slow, frosty breath into the twilight.

Calm enveloped his blade.

It’s kill or be killed. The cold acceptance of fate washed over him.

“Fine,” he said, squaring his shoulders, “we will.”

With a nod, the man revealed his identity. "Good. Brace yourself, system user. I am Jun Li, initiate of the Mount Ben-Niu sect. Let's see if you can rise above your station."