Heart of Cultivation 4 (Patreon)

AN: Administrative note: per reader comments, I have changed the $250 commitment to be in terms of word count rather than chapters. 

AN2: Starting with the next chapter of Heart of Cultivation I will be reposting it in royal-road sized chapters. I will also be adding a table of contents and forward and back links and generally spiffing up the patreon experience a bit. Thanks for bearing with me during the growing pains.

ooOoo

With only two weeks to prepare for the tournament, Jian didn't bother changing his daily schedule. While he wasn't working for Elder Zhen, he continued his crafting studies and started to work on designs that might sell well at Linshi Town. He meditated every morning. He couldn't increase his cultivation, but spending time each day circulating his spiritual energy kept him sharp and would benefit his health in the long run. He also attended self-defense training in the mortal quarter of Bianjing Town.

Cultivators were faster, stronger, more flexible, and more resilient than ordinary mortals. The gap between them widened dramatically with each stage of cultivation. The Guo family's martial training focused on building a foundation that would serve a cultivator well throughout his whole life. There was no point in a cultivator wasting time learning techniques to exploit the limits of mortal humans when diligent cultivation would render such things irrelevant.

Jian, of course, was at a dead end in his cultivation. He could no longer surpass his own limitations. Accordingly, he had for some time seen it as quite important that he learn how to defend himself as best he could within those limits. The mortal dojo had proven to be the best place for him to learn the nuances of redirecting an enemy's strength and using grappling techniques to subdue an opponent. Such tricks would be useless against an opponent like Shan or Lanfen who was in the latter stages of Body Tempering, but against lesser foes he ought to at least have a fighting chance.

While any young member of the Guo family or its associates could seek to enter the tournament to welcome the new year, not all of them would have the privilege of participating. A preliminary competition was held a few days before the tournament proper. This year, fifty-two youths had applied to join the tournament. The top twelve had been chosen by the elders and would advance automatically. The remainder were to be paired up randomly to fight, with the winner going through to the tournament. Unlike the tournament matches, the preliminaries prohibited the use of weapons.

The fights, like the tournament fights, took place in the largest sparring circle in the Guo family compound. The grounds would be surrounded by bleachers for the tournament, but during the preliminary match the grounds were just as they usually were, save for the group of youngsters gathered around to watch.

The day of the preliminaries had dawned crisp and clear. That weather had held steady, other than a chill breeze that had picked up as the day went by. Jian shivered and began moving his arms in a basic stretching exercise to keep warm. He'd be glad for the extra mobility his short sleeved work shirt afforded him once his fight started, but it was hard to keep that in mind when goosebumps were forming on his skin.

Jian had claimed a spot for himself on the opposite side of the ring from the main walkway. He had the area mostly to himself, with only Shan standing within earshot. Shan had received one of the free passes into the tournament. He was only sticking around to offer moral support, which Jian appreciated. It had been a while since he'd entered into a fight with any kind of stakes attached to it. As entrants were called forward one by one by the elder overseeing the match, he felt his nerves start to tingle in anticipation each time.

The first few fights passed without his name being called. They also passed without much happening worth noting. None of the truly talented youngsters would be fighting today. Good news for Jian's chances of advancing, but not for the spectators. The only member of the older generation present other than the referee was Jian's father, and he was engaged in moving meditation two sparring fields over, hardly sparing a glance for the proceedings.

Just as Jian was starting to relax, his name was called. One of his cousin Bojing's lackeys was standing next to the referee, looking down at the name carved on the piece of wood in his hand as if he had stumbled over a lump of gold. Bohai, that was his name.

"Any advice?" Jian asked, lingering for a moment before heading to the ring.

"He's weak. Just crush him," Shan said, before he remembered who he was talking to. "Uh, that is-"

Jian cut him off with a pat on the shoulder. He hadn't really been expecting a detailed scouting report. "I'll keep that it mind."

A few steps were enough to put him inside the marked limits of the ring. Jian paid careful attention to his footing as he moved. The sparring ring was made up of loosely packed dirt, with a top layer of fine grained sand. It offered good traction without impeding his ability to move. The earlier fights had churned up the dirt a bit, but the elder had used a spiritual tool to restore the ring to a pristine state in between each match.

Ten strides brought him from the edge of the ring to within conversational distance of his opponent. Bohai didn't seem to begrudge him the short talk with Shan. If anything, his smile was even wider as Jian's approach had confirmed all of the hopes that had blossomed when he'd drawn his name.

"I didn't realize that you had entered the tournament, cousin," Bohai said. "I admire your bravery."

Jian kept his best shopkeeper's smile fixed on his face. "Let's have a good match."

As the elder directed each of them to their starting locations, Jian took a moment to size up his opponent. Bohai was roughly his height, with a similarly slender build. Neither of them would have much of a weight advantage over the other. Of course, Bohai held the advantage in cultivation.

To the best of Jian's knowledge, Bohai had only crossed the first minor threshold of the Body Tempering realm. By tempering his skin, he would have experienced a minor increase in strength. More importantly, his clear, jadelike skin would offer the same resistance against attack as thick leather. Also, of course, Bohai's liquid spiritual energy would provide a larger temporary boost to his strength than Jian could manage when he used his gaseous spiritual energy in the same fashion.

A challenge, but not a hopeless situation. Jian kept a wary eye on his opponent as they saluted and bowed to each other at the referee's direction. As soon as the elder started the fight, he took a step back.

He stepped back again as Bohai came charging forward. He was quicker than the mortals Jian was used to sparring with. His first punch was hugely telegraphed but still snapped uncomfortably close to Jian's ear as he ducked away. Jian's retaliatory jab struck home. Rather than ward Bohai off, the indignity saw him attack more aggressively in response. Jian kept moving back and to the side as quickly as he could without breaking his stance.

Moving backwards allowed him to avoid the bulk of Bohai's flurry of attacks. What he couldn't avoid he absorbed with his arms. Even out at the end of Bohai's reach, even as he was moving backwards, the hits still stung. It was a visceral reminder of their difference in strength. When Jian made his move to attack, he was only going to get one shot at it.

The moment of truth arrived earlier than he had expected. Bohai suddenly closed the distance with a dash forward that must have been assisted by spiritual energy. He took hold of Jian's shirt by the shoulder in an iron grip. At the same time, he readied his other hand for the knockout blow. Jian stepped forward and turned, drawing on his own spiritual energy to speed his movements. It was just enough that the punch grazed the side of his face instead of catching him squarely.

Now in close, Jian got his hand around the back of Bohai's neck. The other took a grip on the underside of the arm that was holding on to him. Without hesitating, he planted his knee in Bohai's chest and swung his other leg up and over his head. A brief window of opportunity opened and closed while Bohai was still trying to figure out what was going on and then Jian had him in an arm bar.

In an ordinary spar, this would be enough for him to claim the victory. If Bohai chose to ignore the arm bar and keep fighting, though, as an irate Body Tempering cultivator, he could inflict all sorts of damage on Jian from this position. Accordingly, after a heartbeat passed without Bohai tapping out, Jian grit his teeth and increased the pressure on the hold. Bohai's tempered skin provided some protection, but it couldn't do much in the face of a limb being twisted the wrong way.

A heartbeat later, Jian slid off Bohai's arm as though it were a greased pole, finding himself flat on his back on the ground. Sitting up, he saw the referee between himself and Bohai, who was ashen faced and still staggering backwards. The elder studied him for a moment before nodding.

"Jian is the victor."

Jian scrambled to his feet and put his hands together in the traditional bow to his opponent. A moment later he received a somewhat grudging bow in return. Jian didn't stand on ceremony, straightening up and turning to walk back over to where Shan was waiting. He was able to maintain his dignified posture right up until his friend gave him a congratulatory slap on the shoulder.

Jian froze in place, his voice coming out between gritted teeth in a hiss. "My arm is rather tender at the moment."

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Shan said. He didn't stay chastened for long, a big grin breaking out on his face. "I knew you could do it!"

As the pain passed, Jian relaxed into a smile of his own. "Thank you."

Rolling his shoulders to keep them from tightening up, he sneaked a glance in his father's direction. He was still performing his meditation, and at the moment wasn't even facing in the direction of the preliminary fights. A cultivator of his strength could track fighters on their level without bothering to look at them directly, but the message was clear. Jian hadn't passed his test yet.

Jian wasn't bothered by it. He was glad his father had been present at all. He may not have to win the whole thing to win his father's approval, but he'd never deluded himself into thinking that winning a preliminary bout would be enough. Still, a win was a win. He could celebrate the victory for the moment. 

He had an extra spring in his step as he and Shan made their way over to the kitchens for lunch.

ooOoo

Jian tapped into his newfound cash reserves to purchase a healing ointment for his bruises. It was an indulgence that he wouldn't usually bother with, but he needed to be at his best if he was going to impress his father at the tournament. The task would be difficult enough even with the full range of motion in his arms.

A generous application of ointment and a good night's sleep were enough to see him restored to the pink of health. With only a single day off before the tournament began, Jian stuck to his usual schedule. His morning meditation restored the spiritual energy he had expended in the fight and reassured him that there were no hidden issues lingering within his body. His crafting design work was reaching the point that he might have a saleable product by the time they reached Linshi Town. His evening, though, was not his own.

Jian would have liked to spend the time relaxing so that he could approach the coming fight at his best instead of attending the family's new year celebrations. He'd been avoiding family gatherings whenever courtesy allowed since he'd learned of the permanent roadblock to his cultivation. After the debacle of the Heavenly Sword Sect's visit, he'd redoubled his efforts. Unfortunately, his ability to live as an antisocial recluse had its limits. 

He put on his green silk shirt and tied his belt over it with a sense of resignation. 

Somehow, he was able to enter the banquet hall without any trouble. He paused, seized for a moment with an irrational worry over nothing going wrong, then moved deeper into the hall. The members of the younger generation were largely left to seat themselves as they liked. Jian wasted no time finding a quiet corner for himself. He was soon joined by Shan. The two of them ended up with a small table all their own.

The meal itself was highly formal. The ceremony to welcome in the new year was carried out just so. The only role for the younger attendees was to stand as directed, sit when told, eat, and watch.

Shan spent most of the evening mooning over Lanfen. Lanfen tried to mask the covetous looks she kept directing towards Lihua's new brooch. Lihua barely stayed within the bounds of decorum as she glared at Lanfen's butterfly hairpin. Jian's fingers itched at all the money he'd be leaving on the table by traveling to Linshi Town instead of fulfilling the imminent flood of jewelry orders.

The ceremony finally ended, but it would be social suicide not to stick around for at least another hour. This was time to spend in quiet, intelligent conversation, so as to welcome in the new year in the proper state of mind.

"This year I'm going to make Lanfen mine," Shan vowed. "It all starts with the tournament."

This was time to spend in conversation, at least.

"She'll be impressed if you win," Jian allowed.

"Of course," Shan replied, before favoring Jian with a grin. "But now I have one more competitor to worry about! That was pretty slick, yesterday."

Jian waved a hand dismissively. "A simple mortal trick, nothing more."

It was expected that one be modest in victory, but Jian spoke nothing but the truth. Mortals were limited, which forced them to be clever in their attempts to improve their abilities. In the face of absolute strength, though, such trickery was futile.

"It didn't look that simple to me."

"A complicated trick, then," Jian said. "Even so, it will be useless against a proper cultivator."

"You can go a long way in the tournament before you face a proper cultivator, with a bit of luck," Shan said, smiling. "I'm glad you decided to enter this year."

Jian considered for a moment sharing the details of his arrangement with his father, but discarded the notion in the end. Let Shan be happy with whatever he imagined Jian's motivation to be.

"I might be traveling to Linshi Town soon," Jian said. "I wouldn't mind if you want to tag along."

"Oh, is this part of your plan for-" Shan began, only to cut himself off at Jian's glare. They had their own table, yes, but they were still in public. Shan cleared his throat, then continued. "Sure, I'd like to see if those demon beasts are everything they're cracked up to be."

Jian smiled. It was good to know that his friend would have his back. He didn't even begrudge the fact that Shan spent the rest of the evening singing Lanfen's praises. He didn't join in, but he didn't change the subject and he didn't shut Shan down, no matter how ludicrous his claims.

He did, though, beg off and head for bed at the earliest opportunity. Being a good friend was one thing, but sabotaging his own chances in the tournament was quite another. Shan accepted his departure with good grace and wished him luck on the morrow.

Jian bit back his instinctive reply, though the thought followed him as he prepared for bed. He preferred to make his own luck. Sometimes, though, there was nothing he could do but trust to fate. He fell asleep to the thought niggling in the back of his head that fate hadn't had many good things in store for him of late. He could only hope that he was due for a change.

ooOoo

The day of the tournament was overcast, the gloomy clouds overhead promising rain but never quite delivering on the threat. The arena floor looked much the same as it had during the preliminary matches, loose dirt and sand, but the surroundings had been transformed.

Bleachers surrounded the sparring field on all sides. It was hard to believe that they had been constructed in a short time, until one considered the abilities of the cultivators serving the Guo family. The rapid construction served as a quiet reminder of the family's power. Even more so in the case of the primary grandstand, which was itself fortified by spiritual energy to provide opulent seating that would be wholly impractical in a mortal arena.

Outside the ring of bleachers, tantalizing smells drifted from the row of carts as their owners cooked up food for the milling crowds. An even more dramatic change, though, could be seen in the attitude of the spectators. Where the preliminaries had been observed with desultory interest, at best, Jian could almost taste the electricity in the air as the tournament itself drew near.

The younger generation was the future of the Guo family. The tournament was a celebration of the family's strength and firm foundations. It was also a chance for individual youngsters to make a name for themselves. A tournament victor was someone to watch, someone with a bright future ahead.

Every direct member of the Guo family, naturally, was in attendance. Every member of the families associated with or subordinate to the Guo family did their best to obtain tickets as well, their ability to secure coveted seats a sign of their own importance. Even a few of the mortal residents of Bianjing Town managed to wrangle seats for themselves. With such an illustrious crowd in attendance, an impressive performance could open up any number of opportunities.

Jian's ambitions were more limited. As he made his way through the crowd, as he joined the other competitors, as he limbered himself up for the fight ahead, he had only one thought in mind. Please, please, please, give me an opponent I can beat.

He didn't know exactly who he was asking for the help. The elder overseeing the match selection was incorruptible, even without considering the paltry force that Jian could bring to bear. If some all powerful being was listening to his thoughts and inclined to grant his wish, he had better things to ask for. Even so, he maintained that single minded focus as he waited for the first match to be announced.

The first round of the tournament had more structure to it than the preliminaries. The elders had determined the top sixteen youths and ranked them according to their strength. Each of the top sixteen would draw lots to determine their opponent from the unranked fighters. The sixteenth ranked competitor would draw first, and Lanfen would draw last. That way, the spectators would be presented with more interesting fighters to watch with each match.

Jian watched his cousin Bojing make his way into the center of the ring with an intense gaze. When Bojing drew his name, it was all he could do not to jump up and down in celebration. This was a fight he could win!

A quick glance at Bojing's face confirmed that he was feeling the same way.

Jian put his irritation aside with the ease of long practice and headed out for the fight. His clothing was just as it had been for the preliminaries: a simple short-sleeved shirt and a comfortable pair of work pants. Nothing he'd wear to a formal occasion, but he wasn't there to impress his father with his fashion sense.

The difference from the preliminary lay in the weapons they'd be using in place of their bare hands. Bojing carried a blunted sword. The iron weapon was still capable of doing quite a bit of damage, especially when used against somebody like Jian who had not tempered his body at all. Jian, for his part, was armed with a side-handled club. He held it in his left hand by the handle, allowing the short end of the club to extend a few inches past the grip while the longer side jutted a little past his elbow.

When he had chosen to focus his efforts on mastering a weapon, his goal had been to protect himself from theft. In that kind of situation, pulling a bladed weapon could turn an attempted robbery into a completed murder. Jian still didn't regret his choice to learn how to wield an unobtrusive, nonlethal weapon, though another weapon would probably have served him better in this situation.

Bojing had finished refining his skin and his bones. Jian knew this not due to any subterfuge on his part, but because Bojing had always announced his successes to all who would listen. With skin like leather and bones of iron, injuring Bojing with a blunt weapon would be anything but easy.

The first two steps in body refining provided powerful defensive benefits. They were also notable as the only steps where a mistake meant nothing more than a setback and lost time. A mistake while pursuing the next two steps, refining tendons and refining muscles, could cause serious or even permanent injury. In the final step, as a cultivator attempted to refine their organs, it was not unheard of for a mistake to kill. Thus, most cultivators eventually refined their skin and bones, with the great divide in talent becoming obvious in who was able to complete the next step.

"Congratulations on making it this far, cousin," Bojing said, breaking Jian out of his thoughts. "I'm afraid your journey will end here."

Jian smiled. As hard as he might find it to harm Bojing physically, his cousin had long since lost the ability to get under his skin with words. "We'll see."

Any further repartee was cut short as the referee signaled for them to begin.

As with the previous fight, Jian began by retreating. Also as with the previous fight, his opponent was on him quickly. Bojing's sword came whistling down towards his collarbone, forcing Jian to act quickly in order to bat it aside with his club.

The handle on the side of the club let him loosen his grip and use a rotating strike to knock Bojing's attacks off target. The circular motion could confuse an opponent who was used to more direct confrontations, and Bojing indeed seemed to struggle to anticipate what Jian was doing. Jian was able to retreat smoothly and keep himself out of danger.

His heartbeat was starting to pick up, though, and not just from the exertion. Jian could protect himself while moving backwards, but that was about all. Against a mortal, he might use his free hand to attack or subdue his opponent. When he was up against a cultivator with a sword, however blunt, getting in close was far too dangerous. Much of Jian's careful planning fell apart when he was faced with the reality of Bojing's strength and speed.

Worse, Bojing was growing more comfortable as the fight wore on. Jian's controlled retreat became more frantic as Bojing's attacks became harder to anticipate. Each block stung a bit more as he was forced to less and less favorable angles.

Finally, Bojing stepped in with another overhead chop. Jian wasn't in position to do anything other than absorb the blow directly, the wood of his club braced against his forearm. He was sent staggering backward by the collision, utterly open to a follow up attack.

He couldn't believe it when he was able to set his feet and regain his balance unmolested. Bojing's furious glare jarred Jian out of his own thoughts. He'd been thinking about this fight all wrong. He'd been frustrated. Bojing was enraged.

Time seemed to freeze as his thoughts raced.  While he'd been frustrated at being unable to figure out how he was going to win, Bojing had expected an easy victory all along. Bojing wasn't going to be content with grinding out a win. He wanted to establish physical domination. He wanted to prove that the trouble he had at the beginning of the fight was a fluke.

Never guess. One of the first lessons Jian had learned. In a fight, never guess. Anticipate what an opponent might do. Read an opponent's intentions. Respond to his physical tells. But never just guess what he's going to do next. It's a terrible idea that would always lead to an embarrassing defeat.

Almost always.

It wasn't like he was going to win by playing it safe.

Jian shifted his club over to his right hand, gripping it low on the body. The side handle stuck out from the side like a hook. He took a step forward at the same time that Bojing lowered his shoulder and charged.

Bojing's plan was obvious enough. Since he didn't have to worry about any of Jian's attacks, there was no need to dance around and try to win through skilled swordsmanship. Instead, he could forcibly close the distance and trample Jian into the dirt.

Jian's decision to move forward threw off his opponent's timing, just a little. He anticipated—guessed—the right moment to attack, lowering his stance and whipping his club around in a hammer blow. He aimed for Bojing's knee and thanks to fate or luck or good planning he hit just where he wanted. Not dead center on the kneecap. He'd need a blacksmith's hammer, anvil, and an hour to work unopposed to break the bone. No, he hit the top edge of the kneecap, driving it down.

He felt a click, and then Bojing was tumbling to the ground. Jian straightened himself up, suppressing a sympathetic wince as he saw Bojing grimace in pain. The referee moved quickly to push the kneecap back into position. Bojing's back arched for a moment as a strangled yelp escaped him, then settled back down. 

As his heart stopped pounding, Jian gradually became aware of the cheering of the crowd. He'd attended the tournament before as a spectator. He'd heard the polite applause that usually punctuated victories in the early round. This was more than that. It wasn't unheard of for an underdog to win in the first round, but nobody had expected him to come out the victor. A few of the more excitable attendees were even on their feet.

Bojing accepted a pill from the elder. After allowing it to work for a moment, he pulled himself into a seated position. Coming back to himself, Jian clasped his fist in his palm and bowed. Bojing stared at him for a long moment, then nodded.

"Good fight."

"Thank you, cousin."

With that, Jian turned and made his way back to the competitor's waiting area while Bojing was helped off the field. As usual, he stood next to his friend.

"Good job," Shan said. "Next round... well, good luck."

The reminder made Jian's heart sink as he remembered. After the first round, the tournament was no longer random. Instead, the fighters were matched up according to their ranking. With his win Jian would take Bojing's place. Next round, he'd be up against Lanfen.

He hoped his father had been impressed by what he'd seen so far.