Henry puffed his chest out, threw his shoulders back, and flared what was left of his ki as he swaggered over to the two standing guards. Henry’s ki came out thick and dense like golden sludge. Henry felt it slide over him, forming a shell of energy. The air wavered with the power that he displaced. Henry knew he couldn’t hold this for too long, so he had to strike while the iron was hot.

  “You two standing there like blocks of wood; I need your assistance,” Henry said, his voice booming, augmented by his ki.

  The two guards looked at Henry, and he saw that they gulped. Henry had to chuckle at the first one to blink, and Henry knew he had them.

  ****

  Bing Du had been a gate guard for two years now. It was a pretty cushy gig. He just had to stand with his spear and ensure the other disciples had their gate passes. Sometimes he had to slap down an uppity young master, but all and all, he was very content with his lot in life.

  His fellow guard, Yulang Ip, was assigned to this post about a month ago, and they immediately became fast friends. Most of the time, they would shoot the shit. When it got really slow, they’d play a game of go and sip some rice wine. They both knew that guard duty was the equivalent of being retired in the sect.

  The two of them had stagnated as mid-grade Foundation cultivators, and instead of wasting its resources, the sect had elected to relegate them to the Red Gates. The duo were not novices and participated in multiple beast hunts during their time in the sect. It took a lot to spook these two.

  That was until today. It had started usually enough. They had some disciples in and out of the sect heading towards hunting ground and gathering missions. Bing Du caught some troublemakers trying to pass off fake papers and reprimanded them with demerits. Yulang Ip had even got to smack down some trumped-up bandits trying to rob the mortal tribute from Crucible City. Bing Du and Yulang Li were talking about the upcoming new disciple tournament when they both felt it.

  The air was thicker and more dense as ambient ki fought not to be swallowed by some ancient beast. Bing Du felt the ki pressure of a peak Core cultivator. What was such a being doing here at the gates? Why were they not being received by the prefects of the outer sect disciples? Bing Du looked at Yulang Ip for confirmation and saw the same incredulous look on his face. They clutched their spears tightly and waited for a fight. That is when they heard a booming voice like thunder itself.

  Bing Du was the first to spot him. Tall and broad, he was most definitely a body cultivator. Long black hair framed a face with powerful features: deep brows, high rugged cheekbones, and skin like tanned leather. This was not a dainty young master; this man had the face of a fighter who had seen bloodshed.

  He was dressed in a red short-sleeved robe and blue trousers. They looked like they were made of excellent material, but the craftsmanship was atrocious. Perhaps it was some new style that Bing was not aware of. On his back was a little burlap sack and two swords. The sight of him was strange, but his eyes were the most alarming.

  Golden orbs framed by thick, bushy eyebrows spark with power. Bing swore that he saw miniature sparks of lightning coming from those eyes. Bing felt small under that gaze, as if some ancient predator was sizing him for weakness. It felt like if he made any sudden movement; this cultivator would strike him down where he stood.

  Bing DU exchanged a worried look with Yulang Ip, who had reached the same conclusion as him. They had to play this very carefully.

  ****

  “Hey, are you two going to say something or just keep looking at me all creepy like that,” Henry said as he advanced on them. With this much output, his ki was depleting quickly, and Henry knew that he had to push the issue soon. He made to wake past them when both spears descended to block his path.

  Henry cocked an eyebrow as he fought to keep his ki flowing.

  “This one’s name is Bing Du and means no offense to an honored guest, but you may not leave on foot without the express consent of an elder. Please present the plaque, and we will not waste more of your time.”

  Oh, we have a polite fella here; time to turn on the bullshit.

  “Bing Du was it, I am in a hurry. My master will be coming soon from his retreat in the north, and I must be in Crucible City to receive him. Master is not a reasonable man, you see, and tends to break things that inconvenience him.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Henry directed as much of his ki as he could muster into his vocal cords as he spoke the next part.

  “If I am to be delayed for even a minute longer, yours will be the name I will present to him when he wishes to vent some of his displeasure. So move aside, or we will have issues.”

  Henry struggled to keep his ki cloak going, feeling lightheaded, but this was crucial, so he used every bit of his will to keep from blacking out.

  Bing Du trembled visibly as this man, no, this beast spoke. Only one person had cultivation this explosive and tyrannical, hailing from the north. Everyone knew who they were. Surprisingly, Bing Du was not aware they had taken a disciple. He looked at Yulang and saw his friend was on the verge of turning tail and running.

  Bing Du knew that he had messed up. He knew that he had to beg for forgiveness and apologize profusely. This man’s master had been known to raze whole towns down because someone gave him too hot tea. To accost his only disciple like this could only mean exterminating his whole ancestral tree.

  “Please, lord, we do not mean any offense,” Bing Du cried as he dropped to the ground.

  Yulang Ip had already booked it back into the sect, that coward Bing Du thought.

  “This lowly one did not know that he was speaking to the disciple of the Northern Sky Breaker. Please forgive my ignorance. I will delay you no longer, so please, I beg you not to tell your master of this slight.”

  Bing Du was close to tears at this point.

  “Yeah…” Henry was about to collapse and could not think of anything cool to say.

  “Just don’t do it again.”

  Bing Du was groveling and promising eternal servitude when Henry hightailed it out with the last of his ki.

  ****

  Henry stopped running when the Crimson Gates were just a little red speck in the distance and collapsed onto the floor. He was breathing heavily, and his whole body hurt from the exertion of pumping that much ki through his meridians. He felt wrung out like a towel and set in the sun to bake.

  Henry dug through his bag for the handful of gold coins he had snatched from the young masters earlier. He laid them down on the ground and saw the glow of potential energy wavering off them. Henry had learned from his previous noob move of trying to absorb too much at once. He slowly focused on each coin, draining their energy and turning them into dust.

  Immediately, he felt the rush of power travel to his core to replenish his ki reserves. Strangely, it was not as much as the first time, yet he still felt that hunger to get more. Henry fought the urges; they were more manageable this time because he knew what was coming.

  Was he building a tolerance? Probably.

  Was he addicted to getting more loot? Most likely.

  That did not bode well. Having drained all the coins he had on him, Henry felt like he had eaten a crap ton of junk food. He was satisfied, but he didn’t feel full. Hey could tell that the coins only yielded a sliver of ki to his core, and now he was broke.

  At least Henry didn’t have the pounding headache anymore, for which he was grateful.

  Henry strode down the well-trodden dirt road, reviewing the events that had just passed. He was in full bullshit mode when he claimed to be the disciple of some northern master. So then, why did that guy have such a crazy response to what he said? Who the hell was the Northern Sky Breaker? Henry felt like he might have fucked up and gotten himself involved in something he wasn’t equipped to handle. At least he knew that he had one trump card up his sleeve if he ever got into some deep shit.

  As Henry walked, he noticed the influx of other travelers—people of all shapes and sizes, the rich and the poor, walking shoulder to shoulder.

  Henry almost got run over by an ox-drawn carriage laden with goods when he was lost in thought.

  “Get out of the way, you crazy asshole,” yelled the grizzled old farmer as he whipped his enormous oxen. He must have been seventy, judging by his looks. It was hard to say in this world of cultivation.

  “Watch where you’re going, foreigner,” yelled another four men in unison as they ran by him carrying a substantial ornate palanquin. They looked identical and even ran with the same motion down the road.

  Having almost been trampled twice, Henry decided to pay more attention to what was happening around him.

  There were roadside stands hawking mystery meats and literal whole-suckling pigs.

  Other stands had vendors making long noodles by hand that looked to fill one whole bowl with a singular strand.

  A guy Henry saw was slicing fruits by juggling them in the air with knives.

  Henry’s stomach rumbled at seeing these new delicious things, but then he realized he was flat-broke and kept walking.

  The closer he got to the entrance of Crucible City, the more entranced he was to this new world.

  Henry was wrong. Everyone in this world could cultivate ki. Everyone had bits of ki in them and used them daily. Ki was innate in every fabric of this society.

  Henry walked through the marble gates of Crucible City like the other thousand hopeful cultivators that day. He felt invigorated even though hunger gnawed at him physically and metaphorically.

  He would take this city by the balls and make it his bitch, or he would die crazy and penniless honestly, it was fifty-fifty at this point.

  Help a Bro Out!