Ishin felt two people grab his arms and hoist him upward. His vision was still foggy and his meridians ached, but he thought the blurs that carried him were porters. He felt himself being dragged forward until he was brought underneath some shade and deposited onto the hard, tight fabric of a cot.

  Groaning, Ishin tried to push himself up, only for someone to press him back down. A moment later, a damp cloth was placed on his forehead.

  “Stay still,” someone said. “You’re suffering from qi exhaustion.”

  Ishin didn’t try to fight whoever it was. He was too tired.

  The same voice spoke again. “It’ll be eight silvers to heal you.”

  Blinking to stay conscious, Ishin muttered, “What?”

  “Eight silvers.” Ishin could now make out that the voice was male and elderly. “I need eight silvers before I heal you. Can you pay?”

  Ishin tried to make sense of the question. Eight silvers. Did he have that? It was hard to remember. Why couldn’t the healer just help him?

  He tried to reach for the coin in his pocket, but his hand felt limp. “Have it.” Ishin wasn’t sure if it was true, but he’d say whatever was necessary to feel better.

  The healer reached into Ishin’s pocket. Ishin couldn’t see what was happening but heard the familiar sound of coins clinking together. A few seconds later, he felt something shoved back into his pocket.

  “He’s good,” the voice said. “Tend to his wounds. Get him off the bed within the hour.”

  “Heal me,” Ishin moaned.

  No words of acknowledgment were spoken. Instead, Ishin felt a sharp stab against his neck. The pain made his body tense for a moment before loosening into sweet relief. Next came a pleasant heat against his back. Gradually, Ishin felt the strain in his meridians begin to fade. The soothing sensation allowed him to eventually surrender to unconsciousness.

  Ishin was awakened when his body hit the hard floor of the Dueling Pit.

  “Argh,” he groaned. Glancing up, he saw that a porter had tilted the cot he’d been on to roll him off.

  “You’re good enough to go,” the porter said dispassionately. She lowered the cot and pointed behind Ishin. “Your spear is over there. Take it and leave.”

  Ishin turned and found his spear discarded off to the side of the infirmary, still red with blood. Pulling himself up, he searched around for the fire cultivator but didn’t see her.

  “Where is my opponent?” he asked, but turning around, saw that the porter had already left.

  Retrieving his spear, Ishin stretched his shoulders. His injured one felt much better, and he found a bandage wrapped around it. There was something wet and cool beneath the bandages, which Ishin assumed was a healing salve. He had no idea how long to leave it on, and it didn’t seem anyone would help him.

  Best just to leave it on as long as possible.

  Ishin left the infirmary and saw that the sun was starting to set. Dozens of fights were still happening throughout the Dueling Pits, and the stands were even more crowded than before. He noticed that floating paper lanterns hovered above the fighting platforms. It was an impressive display of artifice.

  Using his spear partially as a walking stick, Ishin dragged himself toward the exit. He felt for his remaining coins and, with much disappointment, realized he only had seventeen coppers left.

  Seventeen coppers. I can’t even participate in another fight with this.

  Memories of the healer demanding eight silvers returned to Ishin. He hadn’t grasped what that meant at the time, but now he understood the significance. After winning two fights, he had less money than before.

  I also killed a man.

  That thought troubled Ishin. When he had beaten his two opponents in the pit, he hadn’t known if he’d killed them or not. Even if he had, they had willingly put themselves in a situation where that was a possible outcome. His encounter with the fire cultivator’s brother, though—that hadn’t been a true fight. The brute had sought to avenge his sister, and honestly, Ishin could understand that. The fight might not have been honorable, but at least the motivation was.

  And in response, Ishin had killed him.

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  Attacking the man had been necessary and justified—Ishin knew that. If he’d done nothing, then without a doubt the man would have continued until Ishin’s shoulder was permanently crippled, or worse. In that moment of desperation, a different side of Ishin had surfaced, one he hadn’t realized was within him.

  If he had been in his normal state of mind, Ishin didn’t think he would have taken such lethal action. He knew that the Pale Azure Force Lightning Strike was a very destructive technique, but he could have aimed it at the man’s arm instead of his chest. Whatever part of Ishin that had taken over hadn’t cared about showing any restraint. It had focused entirely on eliminating the threat.

  There was surely a place for that—but Ishin wasn’t sure confronting a grieving brother was the proper one.

  Ishin thought back to the fire cultivator. Did she only survive her injury just to learn I killed her brother? If she was alive and sought vengeance after him, Ishin would understand.

  Lost in thought, Ishin began making his way back to the Traveler’s Abode. Only twelve blocks away, he was hoping to make it back before sunset and before the inn ran out of food. Thoughts about the inn made him consider his precarious financial situation. Even with the inn’s more affordable rate, he wouldn’t be able to stay there much longer.

  Five blocks out from the Traveler’s Abode, four people stepped out from an alleyway to confront Ishin. A reactionary groan escaped him. The woman in the middle of the group was the fire cultivator from before. Her eyes were red from tears, but only hatred remained. The three men around her were around the same age and wore the same rough attire as her deceased brother, along with matching steel-grey armbands.

  Heaven’s curse.

  Ishin stopped where he was, remaining twenty feet away. “I’m sorry about what happened to your brother.”

  “You killed him,” the fire cultivator snapped. “You almost killed me, and then you killed my brother.” Her voice was a combination of sorrow and anger.

  “I did,” Ishin agreed with genuine sympathy. “I didn’t want to, but I did—and I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  The question made Ishin wince. “I… he… it was an accident.”

  “An accident.” It was clear the woman didn’t believe him. “You killed my brother by accident?”

  The Iron Mantis member to her right, who carried a single-handed battle axe, said, “He’s lying through his teeth, Yan. We should just kill him.”

  “I know he’s lying,” the woman named Yan snapped. “There’s no way Ming died just because of an accident!” Yan glared at Ishin. “I hoped for a better excuse than just ‘it was an accident.’”

  “You have every right to hate me,” Ishin tried. “I shouldn’t have done that to your brother, even though he attacked me first. I am sorry, even if you don’t believe it.”

  “I do hate you!” Yan screamed. “You took my brother from me. He was my only family left. Do you even know what you cost me?”

  Ishin did understand, remembering how his mother was likely dead. He wouldn’t disrespect her pain by trying to make excuses, even if her brother was also at fault.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry,” Yan repeated mockingly. “What good does your apology do, huh? My brother is still dead.” Tears filled her eyes. “The least you can do is share his fate.”

  Ishin lifted his spear defensively. He understood Yan’s pain, but he wasn’t going to let himself be killed without a fight. Using his third eye, Ishin quickly studied the cultivation of his foes. Two of the thugs were at the second layer—one a light cultivator, the other an earth cultivator. The light cultivator carried a club, and the earth cultivator a mace.

  They weren’t the biggest problem, though. The one with the axe was at the third layer and a darkness cultivator.

  Outnumbered. And one of them is stronger than me. Those aren’t good odds.

  Ishin started cycling qi through his meridians. They were sore, but if need be, he could use the Pale Azure Force Lightning Strike again. But only once—and there were four opponents. Yan had almost beaten him on her own, and he doubted the same strategy would serve well again.

  “I don’t want to fight you,” Ishin tried. It was the truth.

  The axe wielder barked a dark laugh. “It won’t be a fight.” He took a step forward. “Do you want to roast him, Yan, or should I hack him to pieces?”

  “I’m the only one who can kill him,” Yan declared, her lips twisted into a venomous sneer. “But you can take off a limb or two before I burn him alive.”

  The man with the axe grinned in satisfaction. “Easy enough.”

  He took a few steps forward, and Ishin readied himself for the final fight of his life. If he was going to die, he would make sure they paid for it.

  I’ll use the Pale Azure Force Lightning Strike on him. Maybe that’ll scare the rest enough for me to close in on her. With any luck, her death might be enough to deter the others.

  Ishin began preparing to use his technique as the axe wielder charged. Darkness enveloped the axe head as the Iron Mantis closed in. Ishin extended his palm, almost ready to release the technique—

  Suddenly, a figure darted off the roof of a nearby tenement building and charged at the darkness cultivator. Before the man could react, the assailant struck him square in the jaw with a resounding snap, sending him flying.

  Ishin stared in disbelief. The axe wielder rolled across the ground, his neck twisted in such a way that it was clear it had been snapped. His lower jaw had been shattered apart. The Iron Mantis was dead—killed in a single attack.

  He was killed! And so effortlessly.

  Astonished, Ishin looked at the man who had saved him.

  His savior was dressed in teal cotton robes and appeared to be a man in his late teens, with a strong prominent jawline and a thick neck. Even wearing the robe, Ishin could tell that the man had a muscular build—more so than himself. His dark hair was tied into a top knot, reflecting a warrior’s style. Ishin saw blood dripping from the man’s right fist, drawing his attention to the steel-spiked knuckles soaked in the Iron Mantis’s blood.

  The stranger glanced at Ishin over his shoulder, never turning his back on the group of attackers.

  “Glad to see you’re alive. I can’t let you die until we talk.”