Ishin thought about returning to Central Square, certain that the shop with a rooftop cobbled from hundreds of swords would sell a spear. However, after learning how expensive the cheapest product at the Clear Sky Cauldron Pavilion had been, he knew the mere gold and silver taels he still had wouldn’t be enough to purchase anything. Instead, he decided to explore the surrounding neighborhood. Ishin figured it made sense for weapon and combat stores to be situated around the Dueling Pit. The fighting area would provide them with a consistent customer base.

  Two blocks west, Ishin’s theory paid off. There was a store called the Western Forge. Like every other building, it was built from pale wood and had a yellow tile roof. Ishin stepped inside and found racks of different weapons lined across the singular room of the store. One wall had shields hung across it. They ranged from large circular iron shields to single-arm square wooden designs. The adjacent wall had various bows displayed. The ground racks were divided into sections for swords, spears, axes, maces, and lances. Each weapon rack had subdividers, most likely separating the weapons by quality.

  Ishin immediately moved across the room to reach the rack that held the spears. There were four different sections with a sign above each. The sign above the section on the far right declared those cost three gold taels. Can’t buy those. Although he really wanted to. He saw one spear in the right section that had a smooth emerald and sapphire-colored shaft, with a tip that shone pure white. Without a doubt, it had been forged from rare metals, far beyond the simple steel spear that Ishin had once owned. But it was too expensive.

  Looking to the next section, Ishin saw that those spears cost two gold taels. He didn’t examine those spears any closer, not wanting to feel disappointed. The third section was in his price range, costing only a single gold tael. Those spears had steel or iron shafts welded into their pure steel tips. His nicest spears had been of this quality, and he knew the metal’s durability would serve as a good conduit for qi techniques.

  Ishin thumbed the coins in his pocket. He could buy one of these, but then he wouldn’t even have a single silver tael left. It cost one silver just to fight in the Dueling Pit. Maybe I could find a way to earn the needed three copper taels, but that’s a gamble. And then what? I’d have enough money to fight only once. If I lost, I’d have nothing. I wouldn’t even be able to participate in a second match. That’s a big risk.

  “You look troubled, young man,” a sandy old voice came from the side. Ishin turned and saw a bald elderly man with an eye patch approach from a counter at the far end of the store. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  Letting out a sigh, Ishin turned his attention to the final rack. Those spears had basic wooden shafts constructed from ash or pine wood, along with dark steel tips. Most importantly, the cost of those was only fourteen silver taels. “Do you mind if I try one out?”

  The store was still empty aside from Ishin, and it was spacious enough that maneuvering a spear wouldn’t hit anything. Shrugging, the shopowner said, “Suit yourself. You can try as many as you like. Focus on one that feels natural instead of what looks the best.”

  It was good advice, but Ishin wasn’t an amateur to the spear. He grabbed a seven-foot-long spear and felt a rush of feelings upon holding the familiar weapon again. Generally, Ishin was a two-handed spear wielder, so a longer spear was his preferred style. He began to execute the basic spear forms, savoring each motion. When he reached the fourth form, Ishin stopped and returned the spear back to the rack. The spear’s balance had felt off—likely caused by an internal crack within the shaft.

  Next, Ishin tried a slightly longer spear with a thicker shaft. Like before, he began working through the forms. He made it to the seventh form before also discarding it. That spear had been too long for him to wield as precisely as he liked. Ishin searched for a shorter spear instead and found one that was six and a half feet long. Its shaft was crafted from dark ash, and the steel spear tip was flat and thin. This time, Ishin worked his way through all of the forms—for the first time in two months. It felt good.

  “I’ll take this one,” Ishin said, strolling over to the storeowner, who had returned to the counter.

  “Not a bad choice.” Ishin watched as the owner’s single eye finally caught a sight of his face. “Baaa… have you come from the Dueling Pit?”

  Ishin placed his gold tael on the counter. “Yes. And now I plan to head back.”

  A minute later, Ishin left the Western Forge and excitedly made his way back to the Dueling Pit. The enforcer from before apparently recognized him upon his return and eyed his spear.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Did you come back to fight this time?”

  “I have.” Ishin pulled out three copper taels, but the enforcer shook his head.

  “Fighters don’t have to pay to watch. Save your money for the fights.”

  That was a pleasant surprise. Ishin returned the coins to his pocket. “Thank you.”

  He made his way past the enforcer and joined the line to the Fighter Registration Booth. The line now stretched almost two dozen people deep. Peering around, Ishin saw that all of the fighting platforms were in use now. The stands too were twice as full as before. Everyone’s awake now.

  When Ishin reached the registration counter, he was met by a woman with disheveled hair tied into a bun. She appeared to be in her late twenties, wearing the brown and red colors of the Dueling Pit.

  “Name?”

  “Ro Ishin.”

  The woman jotted down his name on the parchment before her. “Ever fight here before?”

  “No,” Ishin admitted. “First time.”

  A quick annotation was made by his name. “Do you know how it works?”

  “I do not,” Ishin confessed. He felt awkward but wasn’t sure why. He’d fought plenty of times before. But never as a cultivator.

  In a rehearsed tone, the woman explained, “You’ll wager one silver every fight. Whoever wins keeps the money. You won’t be paired against anyone who is more than one stage above or below you. If you get injured, there is an infirmary on the other side of the platforms, but you pay for it yourself. Try not to die.”

  That last part caught Ishin’s attention. “Do people die here?”

  Shrugging, the employee replied, “There’s no rule against killing your opponent. Fights get messy sometimes. We just discourage it.”

  “I see.” That’s very good to know. “Are there any rules during the fight?”

  “If you get knocked off the platform, you lose. Otherwise, you fight until surrender, one of you is unable to continue, or death.” The matter-of-fact tone the woman used worried Ishin a little. Especially if he could be paired with someone at the third layer.

  “Alright. Do I head to a platform or go over there?” He pointed at a spot below the stands where a group of fighters had formed.

  “You can wait over there,” the woman said, gesturing at the group of fighters. “A referee will call your name when it’s time to fight.”

  “Understood. Thanks.”

  “You can go now.”

  Abashed, Ishin moved toward the crowd of waiting fighters. There, he saw the distribution was split between male and female fighters. They were all in their late teens or twenties, aside from one man who looked almost fifty. Some carried weapons such as swords, axes, and spears. One girl even carried a nasty-looking whip. Ishin couldn’t help but wonder how he would fight such a weapon. A fair amount were unarmed—undoubtedly those who relied on body enhancement techniques.

  Their garbs varied as well. Several wore loose-fitting cultivator robes spun from cotton, wool, and hemp. Others wore sleeveless tunics with pants. Only one fighter, a gentle-looking man with long, lush black hair down to his waist, wore a set of bronze-colored leather armor.

  Ishin suddenly realized how foolish he had been. His pack was back in his room at the Traveler’s Abode, where he kept his own leather armor. He should have worn that instead of the hemp robe that was on him.

  I wonder if I can leave to change and then return to fight—

  “Ro Ishin!”

  Ishin looked up to see a middle-aged male referee on an empty fighting platform looking at him. Out of time.

  Ishin left the group and moved to stand on one end of the platform.

  “Tan Fei!” the referee called out. Ishin saw a twenty-year-old man dressed in charcoal-colored cultivator robes approach the platform. He had long limbs, thin matted hair, and carried two sabers.

  A sword cultivator then. Ishin felt his inner self growl in excitement. There was a quiet rivalry between those who followed the Dao of the Sword and Spear, both sides eager to prove their martial path was the superior one. Ishin had fought sword cultivators before, and ever since defeating Jun Wu all those years ago, he enjoyed putting them in their place. From the glare in his opponent’s eyes, Ishin could tell he felt similarly.

  The referee stepped into the center of the platform and extended two open palms. “Wagers.”

  Ishin and his opponent approached and handed over their silver. The referee dismissed both back to their respective sides. As Ishin returned to the edge, he kept his gaze on the sword cultivator. The man’s long arms would give him an extended reach, but Ishin knew his spear’s length still gave him the advantage. Still, he’d have to make sure he tracked both sabers. Opening his third eye, Ishin saw that the man was also a metal cultivator of the second layer. That wasn’t surprising.

  Grinning, Ishin couldn’t help but wait to see what tricks his opponent had. Gou Bin was a metal cultivator, so Ishin knew their techniques at the Initial Realm tended to focus on increasing strength and durability. But Gou Bin hadn’t been a sword cultivator. Ishin suspected his opponent had a technique to make those swords far more deadly.

  As Ishin continued to assess his opponent, the referee shouted, “Begin!”