Meeting Senior Gramly was one of many cruel turning points of destiny I experienced at the Scarlet Moon Sect. Sending an investigation expert for an infraction that didn't even involve a death was uniquely offensive to my situation, and it set me up for failure. Just imagine it—waking up without the ability to cultivate, surrounded by unknown enemies with strong grudges, and then being bestowed with a competent senior official who had a clear interest in you.

  It was obscene.

  And let there be no doubt, he competent.

  As a parting gift, this tortured bureaucrat scoured the mountains for miles, found the cloak, and placed a tracking sigil on it.

  It was a direct challenge. It said, “I know what happened. Question is: will you break the law again?” And while the answer was clearly “Yes,” the matter of was severely pushed back. Because while I could move his sigil off the cloak and onto a nearby rock, I needed spirit jade to do it. And to get spirit jade, I needed money, and while I could sneeze powerful techniques and arrays to sell, I’d need that cloak to sell them.

  It was a vicious cycle—and he knew that. It was a game, but it wasn't disagreeable. After all, he didn't send a leader and left the cloak. And by the comments Robak made when he was drunk and reflective, the comments about how lucky I was, I inferred we had surveillance.

  Rocksal Gramly wasn't stopping me from acting—he was waiting for it.

  Unfortunately for him, he was dealing with someone he couldn't possibly understand. I couldn't breath, but my options were unlimited as long as I got spirit jade or another Qi reservoir.

  I suppose I should talk about techniques, sigils, arrays, and spirit jade since they’re the key to healing my cultivation and surviving this world.

  In the world of cultivation, there are four forms of Qi-related spells that manipulate the mind and elements. “Techniques” allow cultivators, through a dance of Qi and cultivation organs, to manipulate the mind or elements, willing fire into existence or sharpening sticks to cut through steel. “Arrays” are circles with runic concepts that explicitly create techniques, allowing anyone to activate them. “Wards” are arrays with an external Qi source, like spirit jade, creating barriers and attacks that automatically activate. Lastly, there were sigils, which were somewhere between an array and a technique. A cultivator creates a fast temporary runic relationship with Qi, which can be used for attacks, enchantments, and quick operations like alchemic heating and pressure operations.

  I couldn’t use techniques, but if I had spirit jade, I could use just about any technique through the aid of arrays and sigils. That included manipulating the tracking sigil on the cloak.

  The problem was that spirit jade was remarkably expensive and impossible for non-cultivators to buy unless they bought a ward. So, while I had access to cultivation, it was a rare and finite resource.

  But working a spirit jade mine was a blessing.

  If I found enough spirit jade, I would be unstoppable. It was just a matter of time.

  That said, I didn’t have forever.

  Rena aside, my soul core couldn't obtain Qi, since the source was the inner dantian, so I was rapidly dying. Searching blindly for an ultra-scarce resource could take decades.

  I couldn’t count on mining alone. I would need to go into the city—and for that I needed that cloak.

  Or so I thought.

  To my pleasant surprise, I learned that I wasn't a slave.

  I never spoke or asked questions, never admitting my ignorance, refusing to give Inspector Gramly a reason to investigate me, so I didn't know much about my life, but after a few months passed and my jaw healed, Robak and the other miners started talking about their plans in the city.

  “Goddess forgive me for the things I’m going to do on break,” said Trikan, the resident clown. He was sitting with his back against the jagged mine shaft’s wall during lunch, daydreaming as always.

  “What are you going to do?” Rex asked. He was the man who took care of Renly, and he let everyone speak.

  “I’m going to lay a dozen sweenies,” Trikan said.

  “Oh please,” Rex said. “We’re too poor for whores.”

  “Who said anything about whores?” Trikan asked.

  Robak snorted. “Your personality. You couldn't bag a normie if you were a core disciple.”

  The team laughed, and Trikan brushed it off with a goofy grin.

  “It’s sad you guys have given up. I get it. None of are pullin’ a keeper any time soon, but it’s not like the world’s made of keepers. Seriously. You should never underestimate ugly women on a dry spell.”

  “You’re not supposed to be proud of that,” Robak said over the laughter.

  “Oh, yeah? What are you going to do, high and mighty?”

  Robak sighed when everyone looked at him and said, “Dunno. After hanging out in the outer courts, hitting the Hannor District just makes me feel… dirty.”

  The Hannor District, I’d learn, was the name of the red-light district in Scarlet Moon’s greater commerce district.

  “Oh, here it comes,” said another miner. “Reflectin’ on the good ol’ days.”

  I looked at my Robak. “Why were you even there? I can’t sense your cultivation.” I didn't want to talk, but I needed to know how he got in.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  His eyes narrowed.

  I tapped my head. “I may be a cripple, but I was a cultivator.”

  “Oh.” He pinched a pebble and tossed it across the tunnel. “Well, back in those days, things weren’t so strict. I was a carrier. You know, movin’ back and forth between the financial district. Delivering goods and what not. And whew, Aliana blessed me. The women in the court were beautiful. The food was tasty. I used to take breaks under those Scarlet Rowes and daydream about joinin’ the sect. I even trained up for the martial arts test, you know? Got damn close, too. But…”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  He grabbed a pebble and paused. “Enough about me. What about you? You still with that girl or what?”

  , I thought. But I responded smoothly. “Probably not. Surprised it lasted as long as it did.”

  “Yeah,” Rex said ruefully. “But it was nice. Kinda for all of us…”

  “It is what it is.”

  I thought that was the right response, but it triggered primal emotions in Trikan. Hey s clownish countenance disappeared and he yelled, “It is what it is? Are you serious right now?”

  “Woah, calm down,” Rex said.

  “No,” Trikan said. “‘Cause this’s gettin’ ridiculous. I get that you got your face crunched in, but that doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole. Quiet? Gloomy? Whatever. But ‘It is what it is?’ Fera climbed that mountain every week for you. And you’re just going to pretend like it doesn’t matter?”

  “Calm down,” Robak said.

  “No. Someone’s gotta say something. ‘Cause I’m done with it.”

  I laughed caustically and grabbed his attention.

  “You like Fera, yes?” I asked. “Well, let me ask you something—do you wish this life for her? To stay with a Spiritless who barely gets breaks? Of course not. I appreciate it. I’ll be the first to tell you that. But if you think that I’ll complain when she moves on, you’re sick.”

  “You son of a bitch,” Trikan said, clenching his fist as he made to stand.

  “Sit down,” I said chillingly. The response forced him back onto his butt. “I didn’t say we had parted ways,” I said, “and I’m not pushing her away. So quit your senseless projections and do your work. I refuse to converse with someone who confuses self-satisfaction with caring.”

  I gripped my pickaxe and returned to the worksite. And from that day on, no one spoke of Fera again, and Trikan forever resented me. It was a problem, but I received a lot of information by the exchange.

  I wasn’t a slave. I would soon be on break, and I had an intimate relationship with someone, romantic or otherwise. The latter was problematic because she stayed with Kain after the Tribune. I was also aware that my personality was distinctly different despite speaking sparsely, so I couldn’t just rely upon quietness to make up for my personality deficiency.

  That was all valuable information. Valuable information, indeed.

  The sun and moons passed by very quickly after that.

  To an Immortal, time feels insignificant, so when I walked out the day of our departure, I felt like no time had passed at all.

  I looked down the steep path to the sect below, realizing the chore before me. I wasn't bothered by the air, but after millennia of teleporting most places and flying the rest, it was a horrid task—and it would get worse coming up.

  I thought.

  That was my lingering thought as I loaded ore on pack animals and descended the mountain to the Commerce District below. It was also called Scarlet City, and it was a hilly metropolis that ran on steam instead of Qi. It wasn’t particularly advanced compared to true Mortal cities, but there were manufacturing buildings to supply clothing, cooking equipment, and packing gear, saddles, and animals to merchants, as well as textile mills to supply fine robes and fashion to the disciples.

  It had three subdistricts. There was the Kreena District near the sect, a hub for merchants, guests, and financial elites. Then there was the Quarter District for permanent residents, merchants, and snowbirds. And finally, the Hannor District, a red light district filled with women, vice, and drink of the lowest order—a festering wound filled with men and women spreading disease.

  We lived on the outskirts of the Hannor District—and it made me sick to be there. Such districts exist in the highest of realms, but the courtesans did so for resources, forever investing in their appearance and cultivation. It was an action that was as understandable as it was reprehensible, yet walking through these streets and seeing these insects feeding sex and temper addictions with ragged bodies and crooked teeth made me feel dirty.

  You must remember that I spent thousands of years in a higher realm where children cannot even be born without vast resources to keep their dantian from bursting—a world where only those who earn their place exist.

  People who could charm emperors of the Celestial Plane.

  Those who could destroy planets and shake the seas.

  Entering a Realm rife with such grotesque wretchedness was a stomach-churning culture shock.

  “Yo, if you’re not about Fera any more, why don’t you hit a Green House with me?” Trikan asked venomously.

  “I’d rather subject my hands to a torture rack than touch these women,” I said. My tone must’ve crossed dimensions of raw sincerity because my whole team turned to me and then started laughing.

  “Damn,” Rex said. “That rock must’ve done my man a bitta good after all. Perhaps we should give Trikan’s face a wack.”

  Trikan fumed, but not a few minutes later, we had exited that slice of hell and had ended up in the shanty town I'd call home. It was a bad neighborhood of ramshackle huts built on unstable peaks. It was a jagged wasteland, but the danger came with freedom, as the homes were too small for multiple people, and there was plenty of space for me to train outdoors without bothering neighbors.

  , I thought, the blizzards raging below the mountain. Scarlet Moon retained the same range for temperatures year-round, but the mountain below me was an icy hellscape that would kill cultivators.

  “You’d do best not to stand too close to peaks,” Robak said gravely. “Don’t forget where you are.”

  I could see him behind me with Divine Eyes. I wasn’t in danger, but I indeed kept forgetting about my poor muscle memory. No matter how great my martial arts and movement were as an Immortal, I couldn’t move properly in this body. I needed to train.

  “Thanks for the advice.” I said. Then I turned to him with a wry smile. “By the way, can you remind me where I live?”

  Robak laughed and rubbed his head. “And here I thought you improved. Come on, kid. I’ll show you around.”

  He took me to an isolated hut on the corner. It wasn’t on a sharp peak like some, and there was a rocky courtyard. It also had a natural wall separating it from the next hovel.

  “This… is better than the rest,” I said.

  “Thank your girl,” he said. “Even if she abandons your ugly ass, you still owe her a lot.” He clapped my shoulder. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go punish the ol’ liver.”

  He left me to tour my house. It was a simple room with a small kitchen and bathroom. The bed was significantly larger than the double cot in the tiny dorm I was sharing with Rex, and there was a cultivation Kain probably bought before he was crippled. It was austere otherwise, save for wood carvings that I had stacked up along the counter and windowsill.

  I examined a carving that depicted a mortal beast, and then two carvings depicting women. Both had been carved with great detail, with one being an older woman, and the other far younger, likely twenty in human years.

  A fledgling by all accounts.

  I thought. Then I looked at the older woman.

  It would be cruel to have a family in my situation. My birth family passed so long ago I had forgotten most everything about them, but after raising three lineages and watching them all live and die, I knew the pain of life and loss. It's inevitable. Even those you protect with your life eventually demand their freedom, and then you both pay the price.

  If his mother were alive, I pitied her. For she probably sacrificed everything to get him into Scarlet Moon, only for him to die a pointless death.

  Don't misunderstand. I didn't mourn for them—but I did pay my respects.

  Then, I sat on the rug and connected my fingers in the ideal forms—and created a breathing technique.

  Kain had died, but I was alive—and I’d make this man a legend.