I still had half a tankard left when a wiry boy with sweat-slicked hair approached our table.

  "Ironjaw says you're up next," he said, jerking his thumb toward the fighting pit. "Two minutes."

  I nodded, and glanced over to the booth where Duyi and his crew had been. It was empty, which was a relief. I didn't fancy my chances if Duyi realized I was the person who had been part of his humiliation that morning. I slid my drink toward Lian. "Watch this for me. I'll be back shortly."

  "Such confidence," Lian said, but she drained her own tankard, then mine, and followed me.

  As I approached the pit, I studied my opponent who was already waiting in the ring. Young, maybe nineteen or twenty, with shoulders broad enough to suggest years of hard labor. His hands were calloused and scarred and he hopped on the balls of his feet with nervous energy.

  Lian appeared at my shoulder. "That's Wen, a blacksmith's apprentice. Only his third fight, but he's won both previous matches."

  "And you know this because...?"

  "Like I told you, I get around." She gave me a little shove toward the steps. "Try not to die."

  I climbed into the ring, settling my feet against the wooden floor. The crowd's noise faded to a dull roar as I focused on my opponent. To my surprise, Wen's face split into a wide grin as he saw me and he bounded over.

  ""Hi, I'm Wen!" He bounced around like an eager puppy and offered a bow that was all enthusiasm. "Isn't this glorious? Do you like fighting? Of course you do. That's why you're here. I love fighting. Master Tan shouted at me because I was distracted all day just thinking about it. Hope we give the crowd something to cheer for! Aren't they loud?"

  He frowned. "Sometimes I get a bit excited though. Just say if I'm hurting you. That's what happened last night. The person I was fighting was very sad after the fight. I wouldn't want to do that again."

  I blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his, well, cheerfulness. I was used to opponents approaching me with the intention of taking my life, not with whatever this was.

  "Well, good luck to you then," I managed. His smile somehow brightened even further, and he skipped back to his corner like he had just won a prize.

  The referee, a bald man with a pockmarked face, stepped between us. "Fight ends with submission or knockout. No biting, no eye gouging." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black stone the size of his thumb. As he held it up in front of me I felt a weak scan run through me. Another Soul Mirror. Even as I tensed to flee, the stone flashed blue and the referee turned without comments to check Wen. I relaxed as I realized that this was an even more basic Soul Mirror than the one the soldiers had. It clearly just checked for the presence of a core and nothing else.

  His checks complete, the referee stepped back and looked at both of us.

  "Ready? Fight!"

  Wen charged immediately, more enthusiasm than skill, but there was strength in his rawness. I sidestepped, using the movement to pull ambient ki into my body with Waves Take Down a Cliff. The energy flowed in sluggishly at first, then faster as I deliberately channeled it through my newly opened meridians.

  Each time Wen's fists thundered towards me, I redirected my ki to bolster my defense while improving the fundamentals of my meridians.

  The crowd roared its approval as I danced on the edge of disaster, each near miss amplifying their bloodlust. They mistook my purpose entirely, roaring in approval as I dodged or took Wen's strikes. All they saw was a cocky newcomer dancing with danger, but each block, each parry, was a calculated risk.

  I extended the fight, blocking where I could have countered, retreating when I might have advanced. Every moment was precious training. My muscles and my meridians burned, but I could feel them yielding and adapting through my efforts.

  In truth I was spending very little of my attention on actually fighting Wen. Almost all of my effort was directed toward managing the flow of my ki to enhance my meridians. Without a core to manage and regulate it, it was a delicate process like trying to thread a needle in the middle of a typhoon.

  This was all backwards, developing the capacity of your core is what leads to your meridians gradually widening. This approach was entirely unprecedented, I was making it up as I went along. However it was under pressure like this that growth is found and I could feel the benefit.

  After several minutes, I felt the change in Wen's rhythm. His breathing grew ragged and his movements slowed. Time to end it. This was going to hurt.

  I allowed my guard to slip, a deliberate opening that even an amateur couldn't miss. Wen's eyes widened, that innocent smile blooming across his face as he spotted what he believed was genuine weakness. With the full weight of his blacksmith's shoulders, he unleashed a right hook.

  I could have dodged the blow, but instead I leaned into the strike, angling my head just enough to take some of the momentum out of the punch as it crashed into my temple.

  Pain erupted in my skull, a white-hot explosion that stole my sight and sent me crashing to the floor. The sound of the crowd twisted and distorted. Through the haze I heard the referee count me out and declare Wen the winner. Yes, that definitely hurt.

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  * * *

  "I'm so sorry. Did I hit you too hard? Did it hurt? You should have said." Wen babbled his apologies as he helped me back to my table.

  I sat heavily on the bench and looked up at him.

  "No, I'm fine. It was a good fight."

  Wen chuckled. "It was, wasn't it? Well if you're alright then I'm going to get my winnings. Did you know that if you win you get a whole silver? That's so much money. I'm going to buy honey cakes with it. I love honey cakes." Still babbling he wandered off.

  My head throbbed where Wen's fist had connected. Not entirely feigned, that knockout. The boy had real power in those blacksmith arms.

  "You lasted longer than I expected," Lian said, sliding a new beer toward me. "For your first fight, not bad. Most newcomers get flattened in the first minute."

  I took a long pull from my tankard, feeling the cheap beer wash down my throat. "Yet again, thanks for the vote of confidence."

  A shadow fell across our table, and I looked up to see Old Xu's hulking form swaying above us, three overflowing tankards clutched in his meaty hands. Beer sloshed over the sides as he slammed two down in front of us, liquid splashing across the worn wood.

  "Drink up!" His face was flushed red. "No one can say Old Xu isn't a great boss!" He took a long pull from his own tankard, foam clinging to his straggly beard.

  Lian raised an eyebrow. "Thank you, I guess. What's the occasion?"

  Old Xu clapped me on the shoulder hard enough to make me wince. "This scrawny little boy just made me money!" He let out a wheezing laugh. "Put silver on you to lose against that blacksmith. Odds weren't great, but what would you expect when you got a weakling like Taros in the ring?"

  I forced a smile, tasting blood where I had bit my cheek during the fight.

  "A win's a win, though," Old Xu said swaying slightly as he spoke. "Can't wait for you to lose again so I can win more coin!" He chuckled at his own joke.

  He turned to leave, tankard still in hand, then spun back with surprising speed for a drunk man. He jabbed a thick finger at us, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

  "This isn't an excuse to come in late tomorrow," he said. "You hear me? I'll be keeping an eye out." Then the smile spread across his face again and he clapped me on the shoulder once more before staggering, chuckling, into the crowd.

  "Charming," I said as he wandered off.

  Lian watched Old Xu stumble off then turned back to me. "As always. He's not wrong though. We should probably head out soon. Like he said we've got work tomorrow, and Sarei will have questions about that bruise."

  "Not yet." I set my tankard down. "I'm fighting twice more tonight, remember?"

  Lian stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "Are you insane? You just lost to Wen, and he's the easiest opponent you're going to face here. The others will tear you apart."

  "You're probably right." I drained the last of my beer and gestured at Lian. "Seeing as you have all my money, how about you get us both another drink for the road."

  As Lian headed off I pulled the Soul Mirror out from my pocket and onto my lap then discretely channeled a tiny amount of ki into it. I could tell that the fight was helping my muscles and my meridians, but the reading from the Soul Mirror should help me work out if it was worth the effort.

  Making sure that no one was watching I activated it.

  Attributes: Body: 5 / Mind: 10 / Spirit: 7

  No changes. A shame but not a real surprise to be honest. A single non-lethal sparring match against someone only a little stronger than me wouldn't lead to any growth. A dozen though might make a difference. And if they didn't then I would just have to find harder fights. As Lian approached me with a couple of tankards I stood up, swaying slightly. From the beer, or the blow, who could tell. "You know what. I said I was going to have three fights, so three fights it is."

  Lian looked at me incredulously. "What? Taros, this is…"

  I was already walking toward Ironjaw, who watched my approach with one eyebrow raised. Lian hurried after me, muttering curses under her breath.

  "Back for more?" Ironjaw asked as we reached him.

  "Sign me up for another open bout," I said, standing as straight as I could.

  Ironjaw's expression shifted from amusement to curiosity. "You sure about that? You took a solid hit from the blacksmith boy, did it addle your brain?"

  "I'm serious. Put me in the next fight," I insisted, meeting Ironjaw's gaze.

  Ironjaw looked me up and down with a speculative look on his face then shook his head. "No," he said flatly. "My first instinct was right. You're green. Too green. I won't have your blood on my hands."

  "Your board says there are open slots," I gestured to the list. "I have the silver."

  "Silver's worthless if you're dead." Ironjaw jabbed a thick finger at me. "I run a business, not a slaughterhouse. Coin doesn't matter when the Imperials come round. I'm not going to answer questions about why some first-timer never woke up because I let him fight twice in one night."

  He flapped a large hand dismissively. "Heal up. Train. Then we'll talk."

  Frustration bubbled up inside me. I needed to push my meridians further, needed the combat to accelerate my training. Then I remembered something Lian had mentioned.

  "What about the open fights against the champion of the ring?"

  Ironjaw looked at me incredulously, his eyebrows shooting up. "You can't be serious."

  "Deadly."

  He sighed. "Under the house rules, so long as you can put up the money, you can fight. But I wouldn't recommend it. He's skilled enough to make sure he doesn't kill anyone, but he also knows enough to cause real pain."

  Ironjaw gestured across the room. "That's him there."

  I looked to where he was pointing. It was toward the man who had kicked us off our table.

  "Ghost Fist," Ironjaw's voice dropped with reverence. "Undefeated after seventy-two bouts. Pot for beating him is up to eighty two silvers."

  His metal jaw shifted in what might have been pity. "Men twice your size with ten times your skill have left this place on stretchers after facing him. The only reason that people fight him is to prove they're ready for the professionals or to prove they're idiots. You'd waste your coin and spill your blood for nothing."

  Now that I knew I would be fighting him I studied the champion more closely. Beyond the hulking muscle were the subtle tells of a trained fighter. The balanced weight distribution as he walked. The way his hands never strayed far from a guard position even while laughing.

  In another life, I would have recruited him. In this one I would need to give him an education in respect.

  I turned back to Ironjaw.

  "I'll fight him."

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