Chang Heng fell in front of her. There was a kind light in his eyes before they closed.

  Far too many thoughts came to Xin’s mind, but it wasn’t the time for them. First, check the time. A glance up told her it was slightly past midday. It would have been better if she had taken more time, but it could still work for her plans; hopefully, the next fight would take longer. Second, check her condition. She was healthy, but her Vitality had been consumed more than she’d like, and she was more tired than she’d like. Again, if the next fight dragged on, everything would fall back in line.

  Third, address the audience. To do that, she didn’t look at the Sects, at the big families, at the booth where the most powerful watched; instead, she turned to the northern side, where all the poor, the commonfolk, the forgotten people of Green Leaves City shouted their support at her, and raised a fist to the skies, her lungs roaring.

  She could feel them believing the stories they’d heard.

  But their support alone wouldn’t suffice. She turned to the richest booth, looked at the City Lord, and bowed respectfully. Hopefully, the masses wouldn’t misinterpret this.

  Only then was she finally free to walk back to her seat and let her mind wander, just a bit.

  Her victory felt somewhat ironic. Her opponent came from a new, rising family specialising in making and selling high-level Cultivation and Fighting Techniques, but he had managed to learn only one, likely because what he was offered was too high-level and complex. She, instead, came from a damn brothel and managed to get her hands on, and with thanks to, small, weak Techniques only because she managed to trick the damn Granny into believing they would be useful for her sex work.

  The same work she only did because that Hell-taught woman bought her for, and forced her into. How can she be so blind, she wondered.

  The next bout began. A kid from the Black Fist, and one from a merchant house. The first focused on a Technique that made his overall speed a step higher than all the other participants, while the second was an all-rounder.

  She had specifically gotten a second counter move for the first, who she was sure would win. In the meantime, all she could do was watch how they fought, and recover her energies.

  The two were careful in their approach, which meant more time was wasted, which was good. A lunch break would be the ideal outcome for her, and the City Lord’s gut was what she trusted most.

  While the boys probed each other, she could hear her name spoken quite a lot from the stands. She knew her friends and coworkers were in on her plans, but the voices were much more than just theirs. The rumours were spreading, her acting was working, and that morning’s parade had created a foundation for her image.

  It had taken a bit of convincing, but the men and women of the Red Light District had helped her. As she took a longer-than-needed route to the Colosseo, they had walked with her, and she had instructed them on what to say to the curious and the onlookers.

  “Come and watch with us, Friend, our Sister Xin will show that a Dragon can be born from the smallest of us.” They told them, with some variations, but always focusing on the titles: she was their Sister, one of them, not one above, and they were all Friends, not just a mass of humans. If the people learnt that, her incoming absence would be felt much less.

  The Black Fist Sect boy won, but not much cheering could be heard over all the talking. A break to eat was announced, to the joy of the City Lord. Perfect!

  Instead of leaving the stadium, she walked up the stairs with a confident smile. It was fake, of course. She was terrified. She had so many ways to screw up, and they’d be the ones to suffer if she did.

  Still, she got to the highest of the rows, and looked at all the people who waited there, who didn’t go to eat so they could listen.

  What could she say to them? She was just a fifteen-year-old girl, grown up so that her body could be used.

  But she’d been given a chance to speak, so she did.

  She talked of anything that made sense to her in that moment: how they were all together in their hunger and mistreatment, that she saw the pain of men and women forced into a life of misery, but also of the good of the world. Her coworkers shooing away a man who was too pushy with the youngest of them, omitting how she was that youngest girl. Beggars sharing their food with joy when one of them found herself a job in a bakery. A district coming together to support the kindest of families when their small shop failed.

  None of the stories was about her, not in the message they sent. They were about “the people”. They would unite them, while also making them feel… special. Important. She wanted them to act, and for that, they needed to feel like their actions truly mattered.

  It was too easy to be kicked down by life and stay on the floor, when there was no friend by your side. Now, she had the opportunity to be this friend. In a few days, she prayed inside they’d be there for each other.

  …

  The break ended. Xin went back to her seat. It was weirdly nice, to do the same lying and manipulation her life had always forced her into, for something good.

  The first match of the semifinals began. The young woman from the Cultivator family destroyed the blacksmith boy with ease, just as she imagined. He was big and strong, but ultimately, incapable and untrained. She felt bad for him, but it was the second-best outcome. Had he managed to challenge her truly, make her show her Techniques, it would have been better, but it was still fine.

  Hers came. The Black Fist Sect boy, notable for his thick, serious eyebrows and angry snarl.

  Just like their previous fights, she’d make sure this would be one of attrition, but not make it noticeable. In all her matches, she’d been entirely focused on offence, with her improvised grappling a constant danger, so it wouldn’t be too hard. Just play in his pre-existing beliefs about her.

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  Eyebrows ran around her, keeping himself always slightly out of her range, giving her a quick jab whenever he slipped out of her sight. She’d turn to look at him with an angry hiss, and swipe her claw-like nails half a second later.

  Again and again, always a bit too slow, her reactions purely based on eyesight rather than thought or anticipation.

  But his hits were weak, and she could heal fast. Eyebrows would have to either become more violent in his attacks or slow down, accept it as a fight of attrition. As expected, he didn’t take risks. He was fast enough to avoid her swipes, after all, her highly delayed reactions were far from a threat. He could just take his time with this.

  She hissed, and slowly started to “pant” as she was forced to spin around and around to keep track of him.

  …

  Her face looks funny, he thought.

  He was getting more and more relaxed as she grew tired. From a snarl, to a smile, to a giggle, his mood improved the more the match dragged on. It was fun! Easy! Why was he even there? To enjoy himself!

  The cute girl was having so much fun, too, making snake noises, breathing hard as if she was doing you-know-what, always with a smile and at times laughing with him!

  They were dancing together, to music no one heard, giving each other fake punches and little slaps.

  This wasn’t as stressful as his previous fights, it was fun! So much fun that he felt almost drunk. Nay, it was the same as when he tried the wine his Senior Brother had smuggled in their rooms. He had had so much fun that night too!

  As he danced and wobbled around the cute girl, singing her a nice song, he fell on his butt. Just like that night. Only, this time, his brothers didn’t help him get up or laugh at him. She grabbed his head and pushed it down, and he felt like puking. Something prickled at his neck.

  “The victory goes to Xin!”

  …

  As her victory was announced, she wanted to make a quick speech, but she knew it would only come out as slurred noise, so once again she just raised a fist, let out a shout, and then bowed to the City Lord. As she walked out of the arena, she did her best not to wobble.

  That Technique was so damn bad. There was a reason it was so cheap. It let her make temporary glands under her tongue, which let out a gas with similar effects to drinking alcohol. She thought it’d somehow protect her from it, but nooo. She was poor, so she deserved the worst!

  She stopped herself from waving her hands in the air in annoyance. The half-hour break before the final would be perfect to recover her composure. Eat something, drink water. She had been trained to handle much more alcohol than her age and body suggested, so she’d be in top form fast, hopefully.

  …

  One last fight, she thought, one last show, and I’m done with this damned tournament. This life.

  Xin walked into the arena with simple garbs. Just a long-sleeved shirt and some trousers. To the spectators, she showed bravery, determination, and anger. They responded in kind. Her eyes said much else to her opponent.

  Sure, she was angry, but not at her opponent, and sure, she was determined, but not to win. There was no bravery to speak of inside her. She had no way to defeat her enemy, so she wouldn’t. She’d put on a show. Let the people believe she could make the impossible, then shatter that belief, and use that new emotion.

  She couldn’t be a hero, but she could make them angry and sad at her loss. Enough to follow her, listen to her. Even if she was a kid, a woman, and sold her body for a living. When they all listened, heroes would be found plenty, in every street, every alley, taking actually meaningful actions.

  The fight began.

  As expected, the girl was untouchable for her. Her movements flawless, her footing flawless, her every little choice flawless. She kept her mouth closed whenever she got close, only breathing after forcing distance between them. Her attacks were fast, too fast for Xin to use as a starting point for grappling. If she tried to make it a blow exchange, hit or scratch her while taking a punch, she’d be dodged, deflected, or even hit one more time.

  She found no holes in her fists; no balance was lost even during the most violent of kicks.

  She was truly outmatched.

  The girl was no Chang Jian. She couldn’t exterminate a room filled with the most powerful of the Qi Acclimation Cultivators of their city, leaving more blood on the floor than inside bodies. Leave her terrified for a year of what those with power could do.

  But she was more than enough to make her feel weak, toy with her and any other participant in the tournament, had she wanted to. Too bad she was a serious one; she wasn’t used to people like that, had no idea how to deal with them.

  There was no way to strike back, snatch victory. She had hoped, somewhere hidden within herself, but that was just not the case. Two days of victories, and I grow vain. I’m still a child, heh.

  A punch came. Step back. Another punch, step back. Another, to the side. Back, back, side. Back, back, side. The simplest of dances. Her opponent adapted, and she added a little jump. The girl mixed in different strikes, and Xin added more moves. “Plié”, was it called? “Sauté”, she couldn’t forget. “Point step”, to feint and trick the other girl, “Chassé” to make it real.

  I’m still a child, slowly learning ballet.

  It took some time, but her opponent stopped to reach her; some more, and she stopped moving altogether. She allowed herself to enjoy a few more moments, as her choreography came to completion.

  “You’re surprisingly capable… Xin.” Her voice was coarse, as if she wasn’t used to talking much.

  “You can call me Sister, for as long as we both love this city. And thank you for the compliment; coming from you, it is meaningful.”

  “I can’t do that, sorry. My parents wouldn’t approve of such familiarity with one of your… tendencies.”

  Is it my job, or the people I’m trying to push into something close to a rebellion?

  With a look of respect, the girl disappeared from Xin’s eyes, and an instant later, her face was hit with enough strength to throw her away. She didn’t let herself bounce and roll on the dirt, but got on her feet in less than a breath.

  She didn’t see the next punch, but as she stood again, she glimpsed the third. The fourth was almost fully witnessed. The fifth, she could have acted upon, but she didn’t: there was no point. The apex of today’s story was coming.

  At the ninth, she had received enough.

  She dodged the too-fast punch, but didn’t respond in kind. Instead, she created distance.

  She was bruised and battered, her skin bleeding in far too many places, her lips broken, her muscles aching, her internal organs in pain. As Vitality flooded her system, she knew how she’d look.

  Both a human, and a fairy, mortal and immortal. What could be seen from the masses, quickly healed into perfection, even if it used pointlessly vast amounts of energy. It was all just a show.

  She raised a fist to the sky, just like she had done when she had won.

  “Today, I lose!” All of her Qi, left untouched for the whole day, blessed her mouth, throat, and lungs. “Tomorrow, WE WIN!”

  The tenth hit came, and the world was claimed by darkness.