BlueShear
patreon
Jun’s POV (10)
🕑 Added 2024-10-29 02:31:59 +0000 UTCThe young man froze, slowly turning to scrutinize him far more skeptically than before.
“I… I’m sorry?”
“Ah, no worries lad. All’s forgiven. There was no harm done, really. A bit taxing on these old bones of mine, I suppose but, other than that….”
The two locked eyes then. The young man clearly bewildered, while Jun was trying his utmost to remain in character.
“You really don’t make it easy for an aged fella to visit, now do you?” Jun laughed, while the increasingly befuddled young man only narrowed his eyes further—as if to probe why the boy who looked no older than himself was griping about his old age. “Who in their right mind thought it was a good idea to put a school all the way up here anyhow? Damned inconsiderate if you ask me. Now, about that food…”
“I-! No, what I mean to say is, if you’re not here for the entrance exams, then why are you here? Who are you?”
“Why, I’m your new neighbor of course! Bought that little fixer upper down the valley. And let me tell you, sitting on that front porch, the view is like you wouldn’t believe. Majestic doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
“I don’t-! I’m sorry sir, but all of this land is owned by the head patriarch of the Twin Leaf Sect, and he is not one to give away what’s his so freely. Whoever sold you that patch of land likely did so on false pretenses. I’m afraid they were probably deceiving you.”
“What?! Are you telling me I gave that shadow cowled bastard two of my best cattle for nothing!”
“I’m afraid so,” the young man, who was beginning to look genuinely irritated by this point, sighed. “Look. Sir, I’m afraid I’m going to have to lead you from the premises. If you have no business with the school, then you cannot be allowed to stay. It would also be in your best interests to move on from Twin Leaf Sect territory entirely. The sect does not generally take well to trespassers.”
“But-!”
“Right this way, sir,” he put extra emphasis on the sir, clearly annoyed at having cut his training short to deal with this.
And just like that, he began to lead Jun away.
Not shoving him necessarily, more walking at him until his only options were to back up, or be bowled over. Jun let himself be led away, curious to see what would happen next.
As they passed, some of the older disciples threw them inquisitive looks. The young man merely kept on walking, his face a stony mask. Eventually they reached the blade school’s threshold, just a few steps shy of where he’d arrived.
“Now, please be on your way. I will not ask so gently a second time.”
And with that, the young man turned on his heel, and left, leaving Jun to wonder what in the hells had just happened. They were just going to… let him go?
Just like that? No follow up? No… nothing?
Jun stood there for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop. For everything to fade to black. For his disembodied mind to be greeted by the restart screen once more. Clearly he’d failed at whatever he’d been meant to accomplish.
Or… hadn’t he?
Jun struggled with himself internally, trying to reconcile what he’d expected to happen, with what was currently transpiring. He’d thought the trial would’ve gone to great lengths to maintain the rigid structure it’d adopted. Or, at least the rigid structure he’d thought it had adopted.
Convinced him to stay, perhaps?
To participate in this exam even as he railed against it—a single man raging in defiance of the heavens. Instead, it was as if the trial world couldn’t get rid of him fast enough. Beyond that initial helping hand, it didn’t seem to care what he did one way or another.
Which, in its own way, wasn’t that an answer to the question he’d originally posed?
What happens if I don’t go along with the trial world’s whims? Jack shit, apparently. The trial world just up and goes on without me. Fascinating.
Jun stood there for he didn’t know how long, trying to wrap his head around the implications of this revelation. It was only when the young man from earlier, along with a group of his friends, began to make their way over to him—their cultivated beauty marred by less than pleasant expressions—that he remembered to take heed of the young man’s instructions.
He quickly turned, briefly wavered, before making a hasty retreat down the too wide staircase, hoping against hope they wouldn’t follow.
As it so happened, they didn’t bother, although, staring down into the thick cloud of impenetrable mist, he couldn’t say it consoled him overly much. Perhaps a cultivated beat down would’ve been preferable to falling for eternity?
Jun shivered.
Then, keeping the checklist in mind, he took the first unsteady steps into the cloudy domain, and plunged into a world of blinding white haze.
Hadn’t really expected to be attempting this one so early, but, so long as I’m here… Here goes nothing.
Question #7: Just how far does the trial world extend?
***
It only took about thirty minutes for his anxious trepidation to turn to mind numbing boredom.
“I’d only been joking earlier, but, seriously? How many of these stairs are there exactly?”
Luckily, the mist wasn’t so thick that he couldn’t put one foot in front of the other with some degree of surety, even if said range of visibility only really extended that far. After another thirty minutes had passed and he was still trudging down what felt like the same number of steps, he was genuinely starting to feel a bit concerned.
In fact it was just as he was beginning to suspect the wide stair case literally went on forever—and was, in turn, contemplating suicide, if only to expedite the process—that the ever present mist he’d honestly begun to forget about, began to lift. And with that came the unmistakable sounds of… people!
Heedless of the ache in his thighs and calfs, Jun careened down the remaining steps.
Taking them three at a time until, at long last, he burst from the pervasive mist and was greeted by the confused din of shifting crowds and shouted commerce. Still standing about one story up, all things told, he looked out on a city brimming over with life.
The streets were made of hard packed dirt—something which must have been an absolute nightmare during rainy seasons. Carts rattled down wide thoroughfares, ferried along by ponderous oxen, even as a sea of brazen pedestrians flitted in and out of ongoing traffic.
Down narrow laneways, there were colorfully canopied markets, the sounds of merchants hawking their wares reaching him quite clearly, if not the exact nature of the goods they were selling.
Much like the blade school, many of the buildings sported the same style of swooping eaves and clay roof tiles, if not the same colorful accents and stone carved ostentation.
Blocky and short, they seemed rather drab in comparison, if functional. Functional, and also incredibly flammable. Made entirely of wood, rice paper, and stucco, with very little stone to be found. In fact the entire city was like a tinder box just waiting to go up in flames.
I’d be surprised if anyone here isn’t sick of being told of the dangers of fire by the time they reach age ten. Not that I can blame them. Better steer clear of open flames while I’m here, just to be safe.
Very few of the bland houses rose above two stories in height, except for, again, the ones at the cities center. Where a circular stone wall, twenty feet in height, presumably separated the scant haves, from the many have nots.
“I guess it’s the same everywhere, huh?”
At this point he wasn’t really sure what his plan of attack should be. Only that he’d gotten a lot farther than he’d expected to, and didn’t exactly trust it just yet.
He would play it by ear, he decided.
And anyway, no one ever said he couldn’t kill two birds with one stone. He’d answer a few more questions while he was here, then set off in search of an end to this trial world. Assuming, of course that end actually existed.
And so, it was with that thought in mind, that Jun jogged down the last few steps, and lost himself in the milling crowd.
***
Eight Weeks Later
Southern Province of the Enlightened Jade Empire
Vermilion Flame City: Third Ring, Fourth District
Jin Tao cut down the stinking back alley at a studiously relaxed pace. Carefully picking his way around filthy puddles and sleeping drunks, he moved with a firmness of purpose and alertness of mind—his head held down and face obscured.
Tugging the brim of his conical hat low with one hand, he left the other where it lay, beneath the concealing folds of his cloak.
There, his hand rested on the handle of his favored dao. It brought him some comfort, though not as much as it once had, he was sorry to say. Otherwise, he tried his best to avoid suspicion, even as he scanned his immediate surroundings with a rapidity bordering on paranoia. It wasn’t an odd thing, his hunched figure and twitchy demeanor.
In fact, it was all too common a sight nowadays.
Gone were the days when cobra king bruisers, or blood claw enforcers walked the streets like they were gods among men. When any establishment would’ve been happy to hand over the protectors fee.
When the city guard knew better than to patrol certain districts at night.
And getting any woman that caught your fancy to fall into your bed, was only ever a matter of wanting it hard enough.
Now?
Gang members had to travel in packs just to avoid predation, shopkeepers dared to report their activities to the emboldened authorities, and the women…? Well, the women were as pliable as always, but it just wasn’t the same…
And for what?
Why had all this unearned misfortune befallen their vaunted and storied organizations? It was for one, simple, undeniable reason. Because the city’s underworld, the dark lords of Vermilion Flame City, were being hunted.
Picked off one by one.
Jin turned a corner, eyes always scanning, knuckles clenching white around his dao. Sidling up to an unsuspecting door, within an unsuspecting alleyway, he rapped against it three times in rapid succession. A view port slid open with a snap, revealing two bloodshot eyes, protruding much farther from the sockets than they had any right to.
“Password,” the voice rumbled.
Once, he might have rolled his eyes at such overly wary and unmanly precautions. Now, he found it gave him just the smallest modicum of comfort.
“Jade phoenix rises from beaten ashes.”
The bulging eyes disappeared with another snap. And, after a series of heavy clunks, that went on for what felt like a small eternity, the door eventually open onto a big bull of a man and the dimly lit interior beyond.
Jin stepped into the narrow hallway. Squeezing past the giant and rounding the far bend before the clicking of locks had even finished. He continued onward.
Eventually, the circuitous route of narrow service hallways led him out onto a well lit and downright swanky dining establishment. One he wasn’t ashamed to admit he couldn’t have afforded to patronize but for on the rarest of occasions. Maybe a single day out of the year, and only then if he was frugal.
It was an open, multi storied space of red curtains and velvet upholstery—glittering crystalline chandeliers dangling from three stories up. Extended balconies wrapped the second and third floors respectively, creating a series of tiered viewing platforms, from which high ranking gang members looked down on their juniors.
Seeing them all arrayed like this, every cast and denomination of the underworld’s finest, really put into perspective the crisis they were facing.
The once nine, now eight great powers had assembled, and if they weren’t able to come to a decision here and now, it was likely their presence in vermillion flame city would be snuffed out entirely, like a flickering candle flame in the wind. Jin followed the lead of those that’d come before, and quickly found a seat amidst the sea of unoccupied tables.
Abruptly, there came a sharp rapping sound from the far end of the establishment, putting an end to the quiet murmuring that’d filled the space, and dragging all eyes, both high and low, towards it.
Atop a raised stage, likely intended for live entertainment, stood a powerful old man who, going by his straight back and unyielding gaze, appeared to have little need for the ornate, sapphire encrusted cane he held in one hand.
He wore a set of tailored robes lightly chased with golden embroidery. Artistic accents worked into the likenesses of two intertwining snakes. Even if Jin had never seen the man a day in his life, his sheer force of presence would’ve been unmistakable.
Lou Fang, leader of the Twin Serpents gang.
One of the three leading criminal organizations that’d run Vermilion Flame City since before he was born. They were a widely respected group with deep roots in the old ways. They were known for things like honor, respect, and undying loyalty. In other words, the kind of stuff only the big players could afford to toss around so casually.
They were very old and very powerful.
And, by some peoples estimation, the greater of the big three by far, in terms of quality, if not quantity. Now, with the Black Sons effectively dead to rights, and the Night Runners fallen to infighting, the old man now standing before them was likely the most powerful man in the whole damned city.
“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve invited you here. You no doubt have your suspicions, I trust,” there was a general rumbling of ascent at that.
“Well. I’ve never been one to mince words. You’re not wrong. The reason I’ve called you here does, indeed, concern Yexing Cangying,” at the mention of his name, the entire room lapsed into dead silence.
