There were two more challenges before we met for dinner. Neither fatal and neither involving me, I was relieved to note. One did involve Zhuzhu, who was beaming and bruised when he settled down beside me on the broad bench. “You should have gone with me,” he said, preening. “It was a magnificent fight. I challenged Tan Liuhua. You know him?”

  The name struck a vague image in my mind – a young man who wasn’t tall but who was extremely broad, and all of it muscle. He was also on the logging chore teams and I’d heard rumors that before coming to the sect, he’d been the top wrestler in his town. “He’s huge!”

  Zhuzhu’s smile widened. “Of course. I wouldn’t challenge someone smaller than me. Where’s the fun in that?” His eyes gleamed. “I won, of course. But he got in a good throw. I learned how he does it. Now I just have to practice until I can do it better than he can.”

  When we’d first met, he’d talked about finding out what made other people strong and taking it from them. I hadn’t thought much about what he might have meant. But the triumph in his tone said that this was part of it. “You learned his move just from experiencing it?”

  In between big bites of rice and meat, he nodded. “Not just! It takes effort. But there’s nothing like being on the receiving end of a move to understand how it should feel. If you know where they put their hands on you, you can recreate it. Takes practice. Skill. The strength to endure! Luckily, I’ve got all three.”

  “That’s...not a bad idea at all,” I said, thinking about how sparring with Kai had helped me handle Da. “Although it means taking a lot of hits.”

  He clapped me on the back with enough strength to make my spine ache. “You must suffer to learn, Laoshu! Besides,” his smile turned sly, “I hear you had your own challenge. And won! Now they know,” he raised his voice to boom over the nearby tables, “the Mouse is not weak!”

  I cringed, expecting laughter. Instead, while there were a few chuckles, they weren’t mean-spirited, and a few of the initiates (mostly the cooking crew, I noted) cheered and pounded their fists briefly on the table before returning to their chatter with their tablemates. Across from me, Ju Jing smiled, and said, “It’s a fine thing to demonstrate strength. Especially here. Don’t be afraid to show off a little.”

  I snorted. “Says the showman. It’s not like any of us could make the impression that you managed.” He shrugged easily, clearly not offended. I added, “Has anyone challenged you?”

  “No.” He tilted his head to one side, canting an ear towards a nearby conversation. “Someone will, eventually. As they feel more confident.”

  Zhuzhu leaned forward. “Will you kill them?” Cheerful bloodthirst colored his words.

  Ju Jing considered the question, then shook his head. “Not unless I need to. I don’t mind challenges. As you both have learned, I think, it’s a good way to understand where you stand and learn new things. I don’t want to discourage it.”

  Zhuzhu snorted, leaned back satisfied. “Good. Fighting is life. Maybe I will challenge you sometime.”

  Ju Jing chuckled, and there was something in the low sound that sent a tiny shiver through me. Calmly, he said, “I think that would be interesting.” Then, with only the slightest movement of his head to indicate his change in attention, he asked me, “Zhou Hou, would you tell me of it? I’m afraid the rumors haven’t gone into detail.”

  “Yes!” Zhuzhu was quick to agree. “Let us speak of our conquests, the first among many!”

  Shyly at first, then with more confidence as they listened with interest, I launched into a recitation of the fight. I left out the knife that I carried; I hadn’t needed it, and I still wanted a surprise if the next challenge tried to take things to a death match. I had to admit that it was thrilling, now that it was over. Zhuzhu was openly enthusiastic about my success, and even Ju Jing seemed approving in his own, quiet way.

  When I was done, Zhuzhu wasted no time sharing his own victories. He told the story with an infectious enthusiasm and good-natured boasting. By the time he was finished, we’d attracted a half-dozen more of the Outers and the conversation turned to which of the Inners who were willing to take students seemed to be useful, and which ones were...less so.

  “Who are you training with in the morning?” someone asked me. “Or did you learn how to fight before you came to the sect?”

  I hesitated. Any information about my family seemed like it could imperil my disguise, but I’d already shared this much, so I said, “Brother Jian. My family were scribes. No fighting here.” Seeking to deflect any more questions, I turned to Zhuzhu, always a reliable seeker of the center of attention. “Where’d you learn to fight?”

  Unfortunately, Zhuzhu just grinned and said, “Wrestling livestock. Then wrestling farmers, merchants’ guards, anyone who would face me. But this Brother Jian! I haven’t seen him on the practice grounds. Who is he?”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it. “I don’t really know,” I admitted. “I happened upon him teaching Kai,” I nodded towards the demon-blooded disciple, sitting by himself at the far end of the pavilion, eating his rice grain by grain. He didn’t glance in my direction. “And he offered to teach me if I wanted. I said yes.”

  Zhuzhu grunted. “What sort of arts does he teach?”

  “Small blade and hand-to-hand. A lot of dodging and defensive movements.”

  As I’d hoped, the rising enthusiasm in Zhuzhu’s expression dampened, although it didn’t disappear. “Huh. Maybe I’ll drop in for a couple of lessons. Not until I’ve pleased Brother Qiang with my progress, though. Once I pass the sect trials, he would make a good mentor.” He bared his teeth. “Until I impress Xiongxiong, of course.”

  Irritation flared within me at his casual assumption that Jian would be happy to have him as a student. In the next moment, irritation faded into resignation; he was probably right. It wasn't Zhuzhu who had been turned away from the other classes. I made myself smile and tease, “Going straight for the Bear, huh?”

  “Pig and Bear are a pleasing combination! Strong, fierce, and not to be trifled with.” Another of those bone-shaking back claps. “I’m sure there would be room for a Mouse with fangs when the time comes.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “Not for me, I think.”

  One of the other disciples broke in, “You said you were training with Brother Kai?” I only now noticed the uneasy looks that several members of the group threw in his direction. “What’s he like?”

  “Uh.” How did I answer that without provoking a challenge from Kai I wouldn’t win? “He’s a strong fighter. One of the best I’ve seen.”

  Another disciple scoffed, “And as a scribe, you’ve seen a lot of warriors, surely.” He narrowed his eyes at Kai. “He doesn’t look so tough.”

  The first disciple replied, “Challenge him. If you think he’s easy pickings.”

  “Maybe I will,” the second snapped, his cheeks coloring. “When I choose.”

  There was more laughter around the circle of disciples and this time it wasn’t so good-natured. I didn’t want to provoke someone into challenging Kai. Not because I thought he’d lose, but because I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t kill whoever faced him. Before the teasing could escalate, I said, “What’s everyone doing after dinner?”

  “Drinking!” That was Zhuzhu, immediately, but he was seconded by several of the others. “You should come with us for once.”

  For the first time, I was tempted. I hadn’t tried to socialize much with the other disciples and basking in positive attention and even camaraderie was unexpectedly seductive. I opened my mouth to agree.

  Then nearly choked on it as I remembered Yuanshu. “I can’t,” I said, hastily. “But maybe another night?”

  Zhuzhu groaned. “Maybe another night. It’s all you say!” A child’s pout looked wrong on such an oversized man. “It’s almost like you don’t like us.”

  “That’s not it! I just can’t tonight, that’s all.”

  Most of the time, Zhuzhu gave up after one attempt. This time, his mouth pulled down into a stubborn frown. “What can you need to do? And don’t say sleep! You’ve been victorious in battle. We should celebrate!”

  “Maybe he’s found a hidden courtesan and is courting her,” said a quiet disciple, his smile sly. My face went hot and from the hoots from the others it was obvious that I’d gone red as clay. His eyebrows arched. “Wait. Did you?”

  “No!”

  “If not a courtesan…”

  “I’m not courting anyone,” I said, far too loud. Heads at other tables turns and if I thought I could have gotten away with it, I would have crawled under the table. Even Kai’s black eyes seemed, at a distance, to shift in my direction. “I have practice assignments from Jian. That’s all!”

  Just as Zhuzhu leaned forward to say something else, Ju Jing said, “Leave him alone.”

  Zhuzhu’s eyes narrowed. “Just having a little fun with a friend. It’s none of your business.”

  “And I’m just looking out for a friend.” Ju Jing wasn’t looking at either of us; his closed eyes were pointed vaguely towards the walls of the inner sect. “What he does with his time is his business.”

  “It’s fine,” I cut in. “I know they’re just teasing. It’s okay. But,” I nudged Zhuzhu, “it’s really not a big deal. I’ll come out tomorrow night. For sure.”

  It mollified him, but his gaze lingered on Ju Jing’s serene features. “Tomorrow night.” Then his sunny, uncomplicated smile returned. “Guess that means tonight I don’t have to save any of the wine!”

  We finished our dinner in merry chatter. I watched Ju Jing, and caught up with him as we went to put up our bowls. “Hey,” I said, softly. “Thanks.”

  He dipped his head in acknowledgment and waited for me to put my bowl in the proper place before following suit. I suspected the sound of the dishes clanking against one another guided him. His voice was equally soft. “You shouldn’t let people question your decisions, Zhou Hou. Or feel obligated to explain or defend them. To many people, it looks like weakness.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  We can’t all murder the people who mock us. I didn’t say it. I even felt bad for thinking it. Ju Jing had his reasons for the way he handled things. From what I’d seen in the sect so far, I can’t even say he was wrong. If he hadn’t scared the rest of the Outers, the bullying would only have escalated. But I still didn’t understand how he’d jumped to death so quickly. Slowly, I said, “I understand what you’re saying. But I don’t want to make enemies I don’t have to. I’d rather have friends.” I lightened my voice. “Like you, apparently?”

  He turned to face me, to my surprise. A smile, thin and sharp like the knife tucked away in my outfit, played on his lips. “Surprised? Just remember: not everyone who calls themselves a friend is one.” With that, Ju Jing bowed slightly and then swept away.

  Did he mean Zhuzhu? Or himself?

  *

  After dinner, I went back to my little room. The unexpected interest during the meal had made me a little paranoid. I wanted to make sure that no one followed me. The sound of revelry faded in the distance as most of the other disciples went to pick up a supply of wine and then to the baths for drinking and socializing.

  Another pang of wistfulness hit me at the thought. I didn’t even care for drink or the boisterous conversation but the sensation of being apart was something I was starting to keenly feel. Back in my village, I’d never worried about fitting in. My family was liked and respected and there were plenty of other girls to spend the occasional idle moment with. And after their deaths, preparing for this plan had taken up every part of my mind. Companionship hadn’t seemed important. Not when the rage and grief was all I could think about.

  Now? Perhaps as I settled into the routine of the sect, both were starting to subside. That was dangerous. I needed the rage. I needed to remember the faces of my family, agonized in death. I couldn’t waver. No one in this sect was—or could be—my friend. Only a convenient tool or, perhaps, an ally if I could find any rivals or enemies Elder Sun had within the Inners.

  Speaking of—the sounds had faded enough that I felt comfortable ducking out my room and making my way through the dark mist to Yuanshu’s building. Despite the hour, lights glowed behind paper shades. I headed to the door, but before I could consider whether to call out or just open it and slip inside, it slid open and the healer appeared in the doorway, beckoning me inside.

  As I entered, he looked me over. “I understand congratulations on surviving your first duel are in order.”

  “Is everyone talking about it?”

  His brown eyes warmed to that deceptive mild amusement that made it so hard to properly mistrust him. “It’s a quiet time for the sect. It brings out more gossip than usual. And cultivators already gossip more than bored grandmothers. There’s even betting pools on various Outers.” His smile was smug. “You’ve won me a handful of spirit stones already. Keep it up.”

  “I should get a cut,” I muttered.

  He laughed, then pointed at a leather bag. “You’re carrying that. Don’t drop it.”

  The bag was heavy. It was tied shut, but sharp, herbal scents still drifted up to my nose. I fought the urge to sneeze. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  He slid open a door I hadn’t been through before, and waved me inside, saying, “Mind the array,” as I passed by. It was a needed warning: I nearly tripped over something just inside the door. The room was small and the wind, which was an ever-present background noise everywhere else in the sect, was silenced. My ears rang with the quiet even as I edged around the design drawn in dark lines on the floor. I looked at what I’d almost tripped over and couldn’t help the sound I made. “Is that a real skull?”

  “It is indeed,” Yuanshu said as he closed the door behind us. “All that remains of a great sage.” He pointed at other points in the design and I realized that each one was also a bone, filigreed with gold and studded with pale jade. “They make excellent conduits for qi. Have you ever seen an array before?”

  “No.” I was fascinated despite myself. I’d heard of arrays in stories, but their capabilities seemed so far beyond the mortal that I hadn’t credited even half the tales. “What does this one do?”

  He gestured towards the center, where a circular space was cleared. “Stand there and you’ll find out.”

  My knees locked. Arrays could do anything. Twist your mind and heart, transform your body, trap you in a world of illusion. Kill you outright, if they were built in the right way. “Why can’t you just tell me before I step in there, Elder Brother?”

  Yuanshu smiled. “Because I don’t have to." He stepped into the center. “Come or leave. You know the consequences of at least one choice.”

  I fought against the urge to grind my teeth. How could a man who seemed so mild and pleasant on the surface be such a bastard underneath? I hated even more that he was right; technically I had a choice, but little could be worse than letting my secret get out. The sect would kill me. Or worse. I stepped delicately over the lines of the array and stood in the center, too close to him for my comfort. Close enough that I could smell the camphor and ginseng that rose from his clothes, no doubt from the work making medicines.

  His smile was brief, an infuriating mixture of approval and amusement. Then he raised one hand, sketched a single sigil—one I didn’t recognize—into the air.

  The world exploded into tiny pieces around me, and in the next moment, I followed. I felt my body shredding into countless tiny, feeling pieces only to be jammed back together just as unkindly as the world reassembled itself.

  I couldn’t help throwing up. I could help which way I faced. So I turned towards Yuanshu and unloaded all over his clothes before I staggered to one side and fell to my knees. The heavy bag banged into my thigh, a solid and comforting weight. For the first time, I was actively grateful to have knees.

  Yuanshu made wordless noises of irritation as he stripped away his outer robes and tossed them to the side of the room. The fact that he had to toss them is what made me realize that this room was much larger. I looked up, revised the thought.

  This cave was much larger. Rough-hewn walls arched, lit by a green-gold cluster of glowing lights that hovered with no apparent source or support near the ceiling. Shelves had been carved into the walls and teemed with the tools of the alchemist’s trade...none of which I could name and only a few I could recognize. There was an alchemical furnace at one end of the room, and although I wasn’t well-versed in the craft, even I could tell that this was a masterpiece: the bronze was carved into a coiling dragon, its eyes polished, black stone, and someone had clearly kept it meticulously clean.

  I stood on shaking legs. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced.” My voice was rough and the taste of vomit still on my tongue.

  Yuanshu sighed at his robe. “I suppose I should have warned you about the effects of a teleportation array. They can be unsettling if you aren’t used to them.”

  “I’m walking out of here. Where are we?”

  He crossed his arms over his undergarments. “If you can manage that trick, I’ll let you do it.” A nod at the walls. “See any tunnels?”

  “There have to be—” I turned a complete circle and groaned. There were no doors, passages, or portals to be seen. The gave was a perfect bubble, encased in the earth. Immortals, I thought with as much disgust as I could muster. Another painful teleportation was clearly in my future. Unwilling to dwell on it, my attention turned to the other notable feature of the room.

  The body strapped to a stone table near the center of the room. “Is that...a spirit beast?” It seemed wrong to call the figure a “beast” as it was nearly humanoid. Not as human as Kai, but all the regular features were there – it had a human body, four limbs, a head and even something like hair. But its body was made of some pulsing, grey material that lit up with flickers of color that were there and gone in an instant. Instead of two eyes, it had three and one was vertical, right in the center of its forehead. All three were glazed and unseeing under a crown of...I supposed you could call it hair, but it was more like solid mist than anything else.

  Despite myself, it was fascinating, and I drifted closer. “Is it dead?” I’d never seen a spirit beast. An affinity for qi was required to see or interact with most of them. Only the greater beasts could manifest for more than an attack or brief interaction. And I’d heard that once a spirit beast was dead, they dissolved into qi, except for their soul, which became a mighty pearl that cultivators highly prized.

  Yuanshu approached the table. “Mostly. Not entirely. If it were entirely dead, I couldn’t hold it like this.”

  “What is it?”

  He flicked his fingers dismissively. “A minor storm spirit. One of hundreds in the clouds that surround the sect. You haven’t soiled the bag, have you?”

  I checked. “No. Just your clothing.” This was the space where an apology to my elder brother should have gone, but I just let the silence stretch.

  Yuanshu only smiled. “Good. And don’t worry. Your assistance tonight is simply to do what I tell you to do. Open it up and find me the blue ceramic pot painted with a white fish.” While I was willing to be sullen, I wouldn’t defy a direct order. Especially when he was my only way of getting out of this cave. I rooted around in the bag, which was filled with a ridiculous number of small pots, until I found the right one and offered it over to him. He took it with an approving nod. “Good. Stand there, to my right, and we’ll begin.”

  As Yuanshu worked, with frequent requests for various pots from the bag, I found myself hoping that the spirit was entirely, completely dead. Or at least unable to feel what the healer was doing to it. With graceful slices of his fingers, he cut through the flesh—which was strangely gelatinous and did not bleed—in a dozen places. In some cases he applied the contents of the pots, causing the flesh to twist and change. When it hardened to cloudy shards that flickered with internal lightning, he chipped these from the spirit’s body and filled another small pot—this one copper with the image of a cloud burned into the side—and handed it to me to store.

  Once he was satisfied with that unsettling harvest, he sliced down the center of its breastbone. Or, well, where one would be on a human. The flesh parted like mist, but when Yuanshu went to reach inside, it closed back up. As delicate and diffuse as it seemed, it still resisted the touch of his hand. His lips thinned and he turned to examine one of the nearby shelves.

  I couldn’t stop staring at the beast’s face. And it was a face, despite the third eye. A beautiful face, in a way that was neither feminine or masculine, with sculpted lips and high cheekbones. If there were three eyes, they were all three attractive in their way, or would have been if they were lively. Instead of white, the background of the eye was gray. In the center was a dark, stormy pupil that didn’t react to light or even when I waved my hand over its face. “What are you even doing to it?” I asked as Yuanshu returned with a set of acupuncture needles.

  “There are substances that I require for the creation of medicines the sect needs.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, our brethren do not care how difficult those substances are to acquire, particularly when we have a treaty with the creatures in question.”

  I froze. “...I’m guessing that treaty doesn’t involve occasionally grabbing one and harvesting what you need from them?”

  He looked up from where he was carefully inserting the needles into the body. Little sparks of lightning chased from needlepoint to needlepoint. “Now you start to see the problem.”

  “That’s why you need me, then.”

  His tone warmed with approval. “It’s always easier with an assistant, but I need one who can be discreet.” His gaze fell back to his work. “Of course, I should point out that if you’re thinking of exposing my indiscretion? It would be inconvenient for me, but I’m of value to the sect. Your deception? I would not say the same for you.”

  “I know that. I’m not going to tattle.” No matter how much I wanted to. “But at least tell me what you’re actually doing. You promised that I would learn things.”

  “I did, didn’t I? Very well. I’m going to harvest the soul pearl from the creature’s chest. However, I want its spiritual resonance to be of a very specific flavor. Agony or despair are no use to me. Since it is resisting me, I’m using acupuncture to soothe it and change the emotional resonance. That way the soul pearl will be unsullied when I recover it.” He inserted another needle and to my surprise, a wave of color rippled through the spirit, from dark gray to a soft blue, then a pure white that reminded me of fluffy summer clouds.

  Yuanshu made a pleased noise. “There we go. Let’s hold that for a moment—here, I’m going to need your help.” He made a motion with his finger and that long slit parted on its chest. “Two fingers on either side, pull apart gently but firmly.”

  I have to touch it? I bit back the protest and shoved my fingers into the gap with a silent, shameful apology to the creature. The flesh was spongy and wet under my fingers and I was suddenly glad that I’d already emptied the contents of my stomach as I pulled it apart. The slit became a trough, and at its lowest point, I could see a shimmering blue bubble of some sort. Yuanshu reached in, not with his fingers, but with delicate, silver tongs.

  I didn’t want to see the moment when the creature died, its soul removed, so I glanced up at its face, instead.

  All three eyes were focused on my face, sparking with a lightning so fierce that I expected to hear thunder. “...Elder Brother.”

  “Not now. I’ll explain when I’m done—”

  “I think it’s waking up!”

  Too late.

  The fluffy white flesh turned black, like the heart of the worst sort of tempest. Yuanshu cursed and I yanked my fingers back as a bolt of bright blue lightning shot out of its chest and struck the healer dead on. He flew through the air to slam into the stone with the sound of falling crockery.

  The spirit opened its mouth and I had only a moment to think, oh, so there’s the thunder, before the wave crashed over me and sent me sprawled to the ground on my rear end. I flung myself to the side, scrambling to hide behind.

  It howled, winds raising from nothing to swirl around it, growing ever stronger. And beneath that, an even worse sound.

  The bindings that held it to the table were cracking.