Ishin sprinted at the sword cultivator, eager to draw first blood. It took only seconds to close the distance, and from the look on his opponent’s face, it was clear that he hadn’t expected Ishin to take the initiative. Ishin thrust his spear, and it was quickly parried by one of Tan Fei’s rapiers. The sword wielder moved to get within his own reach, bringing up his free rapier. Ishin retracted his spear immediately and countered with a second thrust before his opponent was ready. Again, the thrust was countered, but Tan Fei was forced to jump to the side, creating a wider gap between them.

  Twirling his spear around defensively, Ishin readied for Tan Fei’s counteroffensive. It came shortly—but more deadly than Ishin expected. With his third eye, Ishin saw wisps of metal qi flowing through Tan Fei’s swords. I’d bet my remaining taels that technique enhances the sharpness of his blades.

  Blocking those blades with my spear is too risky. Ishin didn’t doubt that, given the poor quality of his spear, his opponent’s qi-empowered swords could slice right through it if he tried to parry. Although Ishin wasn’t opposed to risk. No true martial warrior walked the Immortal Path without risk. But I’ll only take a calculated risk.

  The sword cultivator advanced on Ishin, confidence plain across his face, knowing that Ishin’s spear wouldn’t hold up against his swords. That confidence was quickly replaced by surprise as Ishin decided to run directly at him. He thrust his spear out, aimed at Tan Fei’s chest.

  Tan Fei brought up both rapiers and swung at the spear, preparing to chop it in half. Before he could slice it apart, Ishin released the weapon—throwing it ahead before the rapiers could intercept. The spear plunged into Tan Fei, directly below the heart. The sword cultivator fell back with the momentum, knocked to the ground.

  Ishin didn’t wait. He’d seen what happened to warriors who grew too confident from a single successful strike. He lunged atop Tan Fei as he bled out on the ground and began punching him repeatedly in the face, while the spear remained plunged into his opponent’s body.

  A rage filled Ishin, and he heard a growl echo in his mind. This was the first time he had managed to harm a cultivator. Unlike his fight against Pang Feng, he was actually doing real damage. No longer am I helpless. No longer is my kill worthless. I can fight back—and I will.

  Tan Fei’s body went limp, but Ishin continued his beating. Someone was speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear them. He was too focused on the satisfying feeling of his fist against flesh.

  A great force threw Ishin backward through the air until he crashed onto the tiled platform. A buzzing filled his ears and his vision turned blurry. Slowly, he began to regain his senses—just enough to make out the referee glaring at him.

  “I said enough!”

  Ishin dragged himself to one knee and found the unmoving form of Tan Fei laying in a stream of blood, the spear still piercing through. Did I… did I just kill him?

  The referee thrust an arm in Ishin’s direction. “Victor!” The stands went wild with applause. Ishin looked around at the cheering crowd. Conflicting emotions of guilt and pride filled him as he shakily stood.

  He had won. Against a cultivator! Ishin looked at his hands. They were trembling. It took him a moment to realize they were trembling with excitement. A grin spread across his face.

  Victory feels good. Let’s see Pang Feng fight me now.

  Ishin’s thoughts were disrupted by the clatter of his spear hitting the ground before his feet. The upper third of the shaft was red with blood. He looked up to find the scowling referee approaching him.

  “Your winnings,” the referee spat, throwing two silver taels at him. Behind the referee, Ishin saw two Dueling Pit porters dragging Tan Fei off the platform.

  “Is he dead?”

  “Not yet,” the referee snarled. “I give him half odds of surviving.”

  Ishin felt a knot of guilt fill his stomach. He had wanted to win—not kill his opponent. In the heat of battle, they had seemed like one and the same. Ro Akira had always taught him to fight like his life was on the line. It had felt that way when Tan Fei charged him with qi-empowered blades.

  Still, Ishin didn’t know if Tan Fei would have tried to take his life or just disarm him. That uncertainty troubled him.

  “What about the infirmary and the healers?”

  “They’ll try,” was all the referee said before turning his back on Ishin and walking away.

  Silver taels in hand, Ishin retrieved his spear and left the stage. As he walked back toward the Registration Booth, he saw the gazes of the other waiting fighters on him. Some looked afraid, others angry, and a very few seemed to assess him with greater reverence than before.

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  Ishin reached the end of the registration line. The person in front of him was a skinny kid even younger than he was. With a quick glance, Ishin saw the boy was only at the first layer of the Initial Realm. It dawned on him that the boy had probably been a cultivator longer than Ishin, yet in two months, Ishin had managed to surpass him. That’s a strange thought.

  The boy noticed Ishin. His face turned pale as he first saw Ishin’s maimed face and then the blood coating the head of his spear. Swallowing, he said, “You can actually go ahead.” The boy gave a quick bow before darting away from the line.

  Was he afraid he might get paired with me?

  The woman at the front recognized Ishin when he reached the booth. “Back again so soon. Quick fight?”

  That was a surprise. “You didn’t see it?”

  Shaking her head, she said, “After five years here I’ve lost interest. Most first-timers don’t typically get in line so quickly after their first match. Never on the same day if they lose, and often not immediately even if they win.” Eyeing him in a different light, she added, “You earned those scars, didn’t you?”

  “If you consider surviving and earning the same, then yes.” Ishin didn’t want to relive his encounter with the Sun Tiger out in the Nine Striped Hills. “I’d like to sign up for my next match.”

  The employee made a note. “You’re registered.”

  “Thanks.” Ishin left the booth and returned to the same waiting area as before.

  Who will my next opponent be? Ishin considered the other fighters. None caught his attention, but noticeably, the refined-looking man dressed in armor was gone. Ishin was about to try cultivating when he heard his name called again.

  It was a different referee who had spoken his name—a larger woman standing on a platform at the far end of the pit. Ishin moved to the platform and saw that his opponent had already arrived. A woman in her early twenties with sleek black shoulder-length hair was waiting for him. She was dressed in pale grey robes and had severe frown lines along her face. Long bangs cascaded over her forehead, partially blocking her upper eyes. They didn’t cover the thin scar stretched across one eye.

  She looks like a fighter.

  Ishin saw that she bore no weapons and examined her cultivation to find that she was a fire cultivator at the second layer.

  Probably a ranged combatant then. That could prove a challenge if she’s quick.

  The referee moved to the center and extended her hands. Ishin and his opponent—whose name he missed—moved forward and surrendered their silver taels. Without needing prompting, Ishin returned to his side of the platform.

  Glaring from her side, Ishin could tell this fight would be a challenge. Her hands were clenched into fists and she moved into an offensive stance. Ishin felt a familiar rush of excitement swell within him.

  This time I’m the one with the reach disadvantage. Can I close the distance in time?

  The referee moved to the far side of the platform and announced the start of the fight.

  Like before, Ishin ran at his opponent. She wasn’t slow, and quickly formed two balls of flame in each palm. Streaks of flame launched across the platform. Ishin managed to dodge the first one, but the second singed his left shoulder.

  A burning pain ensnared Ishin’s upper left shoulder, but he pushed on. Soon he was halfway across, but the female cultivator wasn’t letting up. Two more blasts of flame shot toward him. Learning from his mistake, Ishin rolled across the ground to the side. He was able to pull himself to a stop and sprinted again at the woman.

  That was a mistake.

  During the time Ishin was rolling, she had already prepared a third technique. This time, it was one large blast of flame instead of two smaller ones. It soared through the air toward Ishin. At the last moment, he managed to jump to the side, avoiding the attack—but it cost him his footing.

  Ishin landed flat on the ground and turned to see that his opponent was preparing another technique. How much qi does she have?

  His position was not good, and he was failing to close any further distance. Ishin thought of one option he had.

  The female cultivator held her arms above her head as a large orb of flame formed between her palms. She was about to throw it when Ishin rose to one knee and threw his spear directly at her. The spear punctured through her stomach, and the flames above her immediately dissipated. Blood spat from her mouth and she slumped to her knees. Ishin watched, breathing heavily, as he rose.

  His opponent stared daggers at him as he walked over. One of her hands gripped the shaft of his spear, but she didn’t have the strength to do anything more. Trickles of blood rolled down her chin, and Ishin saw that her breath was becoming shallow. The fight was clearly over—but it didn’t feel satisfying.

  “Yield?”

  Coughing up another mouthful of blood, the fire cultivator nodded, her hand dropping from the shaft.

  “Victor!” the referee announced to the roar of the stands.

  Porters rushed onto the platform to grab the female cultivator. One was about to remove Ishin’s spear, when he hurriedly said, “Leave it.” When the porter looked confused, he clarified, “She’ll have a better chance of survival if you leave it until she sees a healer. Bring it to me after she’s taken care of.”

  Despite his advice, Ishin’s opponent still stared daggers at him, malice evident. The porter, though, listened and left the spear in place. The two employees carried the fire cultivator away, and the referee came over to Ishin, handing him the won silver.

  Ishin left again and decided against returning to the Registration Booth until his spear was returned. He had won two silver on his first day and wondered if he should end early today, lest he risk losing after being injured and tired. Most importantly, his left shoulder was in pain and needed attention.

  Ishin saw that his flesh had been severely charred, the fabric of his robes burnt away. He softly touched the shoulder and immediately winced in pain.

  This can’t wait.

  Ishin made his way to the infirmary. On his way, though, a large man dressed in a sleeveless pale gray tunic with an x-shaped scar across his clean-shaven head stepped in front of him.

  What does he want? Ishin was sure he’d never met him before.

  “That was quite a fight,” the man snarled. The man was thickly muscled and stood equal to Ishin in height. Most importantly, Ishin saw that he bore a grey armband over his left forearm.

  He’s from the Iron Mantis!