Henry was shoveling meat buns into his mouth as fast as he could. Ripping a man's arm off is a hungry business, and apparently, that one win had earned him enough credits with the inn to afford him some food. It filled the pit in his belly but not the one in his core. That was fine, though, Henry thought as he ate furiously. Henry was practical, and at least one of his needs was met.

  In the match's aftermath, Henry saw Ping fork over some gold to a cultivator in all white. With deft precision, the person brought a needle and thread and knitted Ping's arm back into its socket. Ping flexed his arm when the cultivator was finished and bowed to them, showing surprising deference. Henry wished he was a healer and could make some good loot. All he could do was punch hard, and with his dwindling ki levels, that probably wasn’t even true anymore.

  People were looking at Henry and whispering, some with malice and some with curiosity. Henry knew his fight had been strange, and the other newbies might have been a little put off by what they considered dirty tactics. A win is a win; Henry thought as he flagged down the waiter for another order of meat buns.

  Henry felt content as he burped loudly. Of course, the moment the universe sees Henry relaxing, it springs another complication his way.

  The young master walked over with three cronies behind him like trained hounds. He stands in front of Henry and somehow manages to stare down at him even though Henry is taller. Henry stared right back at him while picking specks of food from his teeth. This little rat bastard was going to start some shit with Henry.

  “You fight like a dishonorable dog; if it weren’t the policy of the Inn, I would show you how a real cultivator fights,” the young master said haughtily, eliciting laughter from his cronies.

  Henry burped loudly again and just continued to stare at the young master with dead emotionless eyes. The guy looked young, even by cultivator standards, and probably wanted to show everyone here what a tough guy he was. Henry didn’t give a shit, he was full, and he had nothing to prove.

  “Cool story, bro,” Henry said, lackadaisical.

  The young master just sputtered and looked like Henry had shit on his shoes.

  “I am not your bro. You have insulted my honor, and I demand reparations,” the young master said as he drew the sword at his waist.

  “Nah, I know the rules here: no fights outside the actual fights, plus you look too weak to bother with.”

  The young master was now beet red with anger, looking like he would strike Henry down on the spot.

  Henry just stared at him, smiling a smile that was all teeth.

  One of the cronies noticed how Henry was getting the best of their master and whispered something into his ear. The young master sheaths their sword.

  “If we fight tonight, it will be to the death, dog.”

  And with that, the young master swept off to lord it over some other poor bastard.

  “What a prick,” someone said next to Henry.

  God damn it, Henry thought; his spatial awareness was shit now due to his lack of ki.

  “Let me buy you a drink and offer some advice.”

  “I'll take the drink; I'm not sure if I'll take the advice,” Henry said, turning around to look at the mystery speaker.

  Looking up at him was a dainty little girl wearing a bright pink frilly dress. She looked like a porcelain doll. She also had a massive two-headed battle ax on her back. She motions to the bartender, who pours two beers.

  “Name’s Daisy. It's a pleasure to meet you,” she said, offering Henry her hand.

  Henry took her hand for a handshake. This was a mistake as she crushed his hand with hers.

  “Quite a grip you got there, Daisy.”

  Daisy releases his hand and takes the beer before her, raising it to Henry. The two clink glasses, and Daisy chugs hers as Henry sips his. Daisy burped loudly and wiped her mouth with a pink handkerchief.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Hen Ri, I see you like the meat buns they serve here. Is it safe to assume that is because you can’t afford anything else on the menu?”

  “Maybe,’ Henry said, sipping his beer and staring at this strange little cultivator.

  “Hey man, no judgment; times are hard, and if you’re broke, that's no sweat off my back. I want to know if you knew why they didn’t tip you during your match.”

  Henry wondered why he didn't get any money or underwear during his fight.

  “Maybe.”

  “Oh, come on, Hen Ri, don’t be like that. I’m just trying to give you some advice, one weirdo to another,” Daisy said while lighting up the most enormous cigar Henry had ever seen.

  Taking a deep drag, Daisy blows out multiple perfect smoke rings.

  “Here’s the rub, Hen Ri: people come here to be entertained, at least the ones that don’t intend to stay. Your fight, though efficient, was also boring as shit.”

  “Hey, did you see the size of that guy I was trying to stay alive,” Henry interjected.

  “I know, I know, but you have to understand that if you ever intend to get tips, you must play to the crowd. If you can’t wow them skillfully, you better thrill them with stupidity.”

  Henry was starting to get weirded out by this little girl. Why was she talking like some seasoned veteran? Why was she on this floor if she was a veteran? Why was she giving him advice?

  “Why are you telling me all of this?” Henry said suspiciously.

  “Well, maybe it's just because I’m nice.”

  Henry looked at her with an “oh really” face.

  “Not as stupid as you look, Hen Ri."

  "I'm telling you this so you can get some tips. I’m telling you this because your fighting style interests me.”

  Something weird happened here; Daisy’s voice was getting more profound, and the light and sound seemed to drain from the Inn.

  “I'm telling you this because I want you to climb as high as possible in my Inn.”

  Everything seemed to be washed out and distant now, and all he could see was Daisy in her pink dress smoking a cigar.

  “Finally, I'm telling you this because a friend told me to keep an eye on you. He gets grumpy when people mess with his kin. So please put on a show and don’t die.”

  Everything snapped back into focus, and Daisy was gone.

  Fuck, Henry had just been hit with the xianxia bullshit yet again.

  ****

  Henry looked up at the crystal screen to the sneering face of his next opponent. The guy was called Ping, and he looked like a rat.

  Okay, he was a rat man with whiskers and big buck teeth. So they had beast people in this world, Henry thought.

  Henry remembered what Daisy, if that was her name, had told him about putting on a show as he entered the ring.

  In his past life, Henry was an avid watcher of Professional Wrestling and thought the world needed to be introduced to the art of cutting a promo.

  Henry had removed his pants and shirt and stored them in his spatial ring. He was wearing tight black boxers and had managed to get some oil from the bartender, who gave him a shocked look. He rubbed himself with the oil, ensuring every bit of his body glistened. With that done, he jumped into the pit.

  Right away, there were jeers and boos directed at Henry. That was to be expected, but he soldiered on letting the faintest wisp of ki trickle to his vocal cords.

  “ Behold the perfection in front of you,” Henry said while flexing his biceps and squeezing his buttocks.

  More jeers and boos but also some whistles and catcalls.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce myself.”

  More boos and jeers, but now also some laughter.

  “I am the all-encompassing, ever electrifying, death-defying, rated R superstar, Hen the Dragon Ri!”

  Henry hit a backflip and flexed again, ensuring the light shined off his muscles.

  “I am here to kick ass and eat meat buns, and I’m all out of meat buns."

  Laughter this time and polite clapping.

  "This jabroni here thinks that he's gonna come into The Dragon's house with The Dragon’s fans and take the Dragon’s belt. I don't think so; tonight in the Rising Star inn, in front of The Dragon's fans, The Dragon is gonna open up a can of whoop ass on this Rat bastard.”

  Henry was pointing at Ri, who just stood there dumbfounded.

  The crowd was cheering now. They were getting fired up by this weirdo.

  “Yeah, this is The Dragon's house,” someone said.

  “He’s going to rob The Dragon of his belt; what a scoundrel,” another spectator said to their friend.

  “He’s not even wearing a belt,” countered another onlooker.

  “Oh, shut up, Sei. No one talks about The Dragon like that in his house,” Sei’s friend said.

  “Kick his ass Dragon.” said a little child's voice that sounded suspiciously like Daisy’s

  The countdown hit zero, and Henry, in all his glistening glory, approached Ri, who, at this point, was utterly shitting himself in fear.

  This was the dragon’s house, apparently, and he was gonna get his ass kicked for trying to take his belt.

  Help a Bro Out!