Silver Fox & The Western Hero: Warrior Reforged: A LitRPG/Wuxia Novel - Book 2

by M. H. Johnson

  Alex couldn’t help but wince at the caliber of enemies he had a knack for making, forced to accept once more just how small and insignificant he himself was in a world where strength meant absolutely everything.

  Alex needed to get stronger, at any cost.

  So he ignored the inviting promise of the opened door.

  Until his eyes caught site of the tray of food and jug of wine placed at the end of the hallway.

  His stomach rumbled, and he smiled bitterly.

  Clearly, he was being set up.

  But if he didn’t bite at all, that itself would be strikingly odd, since as far as they could ascertain, save for a single flask of tepid water, he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything for over two days.

  So Alex did the only thing he could.

  He took the bait.

  But he was no fool.

  Qi Perception detects three mortals nearby.

  No significant sources of focused Qi detected.

  Step by cautious step, Alex slunk down the hallway, past a trio of thick wooden doors with metal grills and thick bronze hinges much like his own. He extended his senses as far out as he could… sensing nothing.

  A tentative hand reached for what turned out to be a bowl of chicken and rice, putting a tiny kernel against his tongue. No toxins or pathogens detected. Finding the flavor absolutely delicious. The wine as well.

  He scanned his surroundings as he ravenously ate, spying what looked like a tiny pouch filled with the glitter of silver and, unmistakably, at the very end of the hall… an open door with a perfect view of the night sky could be seen, not a soul in sight. And Alex’s heart lurched, sensing the night calling out to him, feeling a sudden desperate hunger to be free. To let go of his mad plan which would probably get him killed and just flee the temple, flee the city, and lose himself in the deep primal wilds between major cities once more, where with his ring and his unique gifts he sensed he could prosper, perhaps have a rich, exciting life full of growth and wonder, even if he never did master his Dual Path cultivation style.

  Alex swallowed, in that moment aching for night’s caress like never before.

  He sighed and turned around, heading back to his cell.

  29

  The next day there was neither food nor water nor suspicious sentinel. No one bothered to visit him at all. And the night repeated much the same as the one before.

  “You’re a fool, you know,” said an angry-looking Zhao Doushi, opening the cell door the following morning as Alex continued to cultivate, pausing to turn around, giving nothing away.

  The sentinel frowned. But since Alex’s cultivation technique wasted no Qi, Dark or Light, there was no foul residue for the man to smell. No reason to think him anything but the foolish Ruidian too stupid to take the hints given and the path laid before him.

  “Are you truly stupider than a rat in a maze?”

  Alex flashed a cynical smile. “Perhaps this rat isn’t anxious to get dissected by scientists once he completes his journey.”

  Zhao Doushi flashed a matching cynical smile. “It is that sort of world we live in, isn’t it? No matter how honorable and upstanding any organization, no matter how much good we have done for our city, our society, in the eyes of some it will be seen with the same bitter lens as colored all their life experiences.”

  Alex’s eyes widened, surprised by the man’s insight, not expecting such self-reflection in this time and place.

  The man snorted. “None of us are fools, Ruidian. And none of us wish to taint our potential, cutting down a boy for no reason.”

  Alex frowned. “Even though slaves are collected for death matches?”

  The man nodded. “Men so black with karmic debts and the marks of their own crimes that the fates declared them slaves to pay off all their old sins.”

  Alex smirked. “That’s a very convenient way of looking at it.”

  The man scowled. “It is the school’s official position, with the path of redemption open.”

  Alex nodded. “I know. A boon to any slave who actually survives the trials. And I’m guessing not too many slaves have claimed that boon yet. And by not too many, I mean none.”

  The man said nothing, merely frowned as he continued to study Alex.

  “So, can I declare the prize I would claim?”

  The man slowly nodded. “Most request gold and the removal of their collar, perhaps even a home or source of income. The academy prides itself on never turning down any request, so long as it’s not a duke’s ransom.”

  Alex gazed carefully at the man before him. “So, any prize that’s within the academy’s power to grant, for less than an absurd amount of gold, is a reasonable request?”

  The man nodded.

  Alex swallowed, his heart suddenly racing. “Then I’d like to make the most reasonable of requests, one that will cost the college very little coin, if any.”

  “And what would that be?”

  Alex looked the man in the eye. “That my fights be legitimized. That the ranking I earn is no less than that of the strongest student I beat during the trials.”

  The man blanched, looking taken aback. “Do you even know what you’re asking? Do you even understand what this is? You’re not fighting for rank. You’ll be fighting for your very survival! And even should you endure the trials, you’ll still be facing off against a Bronze!”

  Alex dipped his head. “And should I survive… I ask for no boon of property or gold. Merely that my triumphs be acknowledged, the same as anyone not forced to wear a collar because they were tagged by slavers in their sleep would enjoy.”

  “Why?”

  Alex chuckled ruefully, hoping he wasn’t overplaying his hand. “I’ll have a fine tale to tell then, won’t I? The Ruidian ranked among the best fighters of all those striving for a spot at the academy this season. So even if I’m struggling to find work with the scars of my collar never quite fading, at least I’ll have one wonderful tale to earn myself dinner over.”

  The man scowled, shaking his head. “Yet it profits you nothing. No gold, no stipend, no treasure, no shelter. You alone, among all the slaves who will be fighting death matches, have multiple youths vouching for your integrity and character, claiming that you committed no crimes at all. Were it not for the collar of iron around your neck that we cannot ignore...”

  The man gave an angry shake of his head. “It would be easier for everyone if someone like yourself were to vanish from the records, silver mysteriously in hand, with a single wooden token assuring free passage to Erdushi with the next caravan.” He gazed intently at Alex. “The caravan stops by no less than half a dozen walled villages that don’t exist on any official maps on its thousand-mile journey. And at least one of them is comprised almost entirely of Ruidians who have every reason to fear slavers, and to sympathize with the plight of one of their own.”

  Alex’s eyes widened at that bit of news, a part of him suddenly wondering what it would be like to meet these people, to explore that town and learn its history, its culture, the lives and experiences of its people.

  But before anything else, he needed to get strong.

  And his curiosity was more than slightly piqued.

  “May I speak freely, Master Zhao?”

  The muscular cultivator smirked. “Haven’t you been already?”

  “Why are you helping me?”

  Zhao Doushi glared, the slightest traces of warmth Alex had begun to sense instantly freezing over. “Why are you here?”

  Alex blinked and swallowed. “I’m a captured slave, remember?”

  The man slowly shook his head. “No. You could have left at any time. Here, and while escorting that madman of a merchant. Even at the end, when his depravity was apparent, you chose to rescue the girl, imperiling yourself. Those weren’t the deeds of a man with blackened karma, unlike the man who nearly killed you.” The cultivator glared. “You have no reason to stay, Ruidian. The girl who has already caught the gaze of more than one senior cultivator has the will of a
fighter and will prosper in life, no matter how she does in the trials. And the kitsune girl is safe.”

  He gazed intently at Alex, as if measuring him with those last words. “Hao Yin and her brother will savor a mentorship as peaceful and free of trial as any boy or girl could want. Lady Jidihu has already taken a shine to her newest disciple. Her brother is even allowed to bunk with her after his days at the stables. By all accounts, the pair are content.”

  Alex shivered under the weight of the man’s gaze.

  “So there is no reason for you to be here, Ruidian. No reason at all.”

  Alex swallowed. “What are you really saying?”

  The man sighed, shaking his head. “Those fools unwilling to study history are doomed to repeat it. In this life, or another.” Hard eyes glared into his own. “You have two more nights to choose a different path than the one you seem intent on taking. And your boon will be honored, should you actually be stupid enough to continue along this path. But the karmic burden of a life wasted will be your own to bear.”

  Alex swallowed. “What happens after two nights?”

  The man smiled coldly. “The trials begin.”

  Twice more the door was left open, the enticing scents of chicken and rice became something he almost looked forward to, for all that he had plenty of food and water stored away, intent on keeping his strength up for what was to come.

  That night he saw the glint of silver by the small bag left near the exit.

  And the final night before the trials, he saw the glint of gold.

  Taking neither, he made his way quietly back to the cell after each meal, exactly where he needed to be.

  And he did more than embrace his Dual Path cultivation technique, for all that countless tens of thousands of hours would be needed to cleanse the titanic seventh gate he understood Zheng Yi himself had blessed with his most recent iteration. Perhaps a double-edged boon for Alex’s earlier self-sacrifice, and definitely an impediment to him being anything but a basic cultivator, even after decades of safe cultivation.

  And he smiled in the darkness, going over all the martial forms he had practiced with Hao Chan during that strange endless month they had shared, having met far more spirit beasts than was healthy. And fellow travelers? None at all.

  The path he had chosen involved anything but decades of safe cultivation, he thought, after yet another bout of body stretches and embracing every striking technique Hao Chan had showed him, whipping his legs around in deadly arcs before abruptly shifting range and technique with short range powerful knee bombs, shin kicks, elbows, and knife-hand strikes among others.

  And whenever he pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion, he would embrace the Eternal Fox technique and revitalize himself fully within minutes, doing it over and over again.

  For two days he continued his routine, even when he heard the almost-surly sound of a door being slammed shut in the distance.

  A gong of doom.

  The next day Alex woke to the sound of a crowd roaring through his window. As quick as thought, he bolted upright, peering out the barred window, heart racing with the spectacle before him.

  The roar of hundreds of onlookers, if not more, and whether they were cultivators, city lords, or other favored, he did not know. But the rapid series of punches and kicks being traded by two sleek, well-defined men was something he understood all too well.

  And when one man stumbled just a hair, balance off for just a heartbeat, Alex could already sense the fight was over. A powerful diagonal kick delivered at just the right moment to knock the wobbly fighter over before a final furious foot stomp was delivered, the victor raising his arms to the cheers of the crowd while the loser curled in on himself, beaten and disgraced.

  But at least he was alive, Alex thought, when a pair of green and blue robed men brought a bamboo stretcher and hurried the injured man away.

  And theirs was just the first of several bouts that morning, each ending nearly as decisively as the first.

  Alex kept his intense focus on the ground’s eye view of the arena before him, effectively having a front row seat, gathering what data he could. Most of the youths fighting were powerfully built, and all of them had the faintest tinge of Qi about their aura, though nothing like the fierce azure aura of chilly power emanating from Zhao Doushi.

  They all fought with physiques that had been at least somewhat empowered by freed meridian channels, seemed to favor a kickboxer’s stance, and didn’t seem to mind telegraphing their blows, so long as they could hit with force. And none of them, so far, had accessed any Qi abilities of any sort.

  Presence detected.

  Alex stopped his analysis only when he sensed the less-than-pleased presence of Zhao Doushi himself.

  He slowly turned around and bowed at the scowling man who had opened the door.

  “You’re a fool, Alex Nameless,” said the man.

  Alex smile at that. “Actually, it’s Alex Hammer.”

  The man frowned at sounds that didn’t automatically translate.

  “Is that a Ruidian name?” the cultivator finally asked.

  Alex shrugged. “Not like anyone will believe me if I protest the point, but sure. We can call it Ruidian if you like.”

  Zhao Doushi nodded. “Very well, Alex Hammer, it is time.” He then handed Alex a thick woolen changshan reminiscent of the uniform he and Hao Chan had spent countless hours sparring in.

  He looked down at his own hands, trembling ever so slightly as he put on the woolen uniform, the reality of his situation finally sinking in. He was about to enter an arena and fight for his life.

  The hallway near his cell was as busy as he had ever seen it, a pair of robed young men glaring at him as they dashed by.

  “Ruidian trash.”

  “Good to see him die, today. Should have been purged long ago,” sneered the other.

  Alex lowered his gaze, clenching his fists tight. It was one thing to be sentenced to death by an impersonal edict and a diabolical merchant twisting laws to suit his ends, but to find complete strangers holding him in such contempt… it shook him to know his life meant so little to them. Perhaps to anyone there.

  He caught the eyes of more than one young cultivator who sneered his way as Alex and his keeper made their way outside, a light mist weighing the air with a dampness that thankfully didn’t soak past his admittedly scratchy woolen jacket.

  He blinked only a moment in wonder as he saw, for the first time, dozens of cultivators and would-be cultivators milling before the entrance to the arena proper, each with a mat they cultivated, meditated, or stretched upon, in some cases engaged in friendly light sparring with a fellow competitor. But whereas their tone was hopeful and filled with tense excitement when speaking to each other, the words muttered when they looked his way were filled with disdain.

  “Another slave. A Ruidian, of all things.”

  “No doubt a murderer like all the others. I don’t know why they don’t lock up all those bastards. Save a lot of time.”

  Of them all, only one chance-met gaze filled him with anything other than contempt.

  Hao Chan’s soft amber eyes caught his own.

  Only a flash, and he was grateful beyond words to see her in the company of several other females in a sea of male contenders, but the worry in her gaze touched his heart, as much as he regretted being the source of that concerned gaze.

  He had the gall to wink before lowering his gaze at the hiss of one of the male cultivators who somehow decided that Alex was mocking him and rose to his considerable six foot and change height, striding over with clenched fists.

  “I demand the right to challenge this slave and wipe the insolent smirk off his face!” the powerfully-built youth declared, something in his gaze reeking of noble privilege and disdain for any lesser man.

  Zhao Doushi just stared coldly at the youth until he paled and stepped back, not even bothering to say a word as a path was quickly made for the cultivator and his charge to enter the arch leading to the
arena.

  “This isn’t over, slave. You better win your first fight, because I, Yu Chun, will be the one to send you to an early grave. Count on it!”

  And before Alex could say a word or even turn to address the arrogant prick, Zhao Doushi had almost effortlessly shoved him forward before the gate. “You know the rules, Ruidian?”

  Alex swallowed. “Refresh my memory. It’s not like you guys did much besides not feed me.”

  The man smirked. “We offered you dinner and your life, every night. ‘Tis a shame you took only one of those offerings. The rules are simple. No eye gouges, no finger breaking, no weapons. Everything else goes. When your opponent yields, is incapacitated, or the referee demands you separate, you do so. All strikes are allowed. All throws are allowed. Any grappling maneuver lasting past the count of five disqualifies the match, as any enemy could have speared you both in that time. Do you understand?”

  Alex frowned, slowly nodding. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.”

  At that moment the gate opened, and before Alex could even think of anything to say, to gird himself, to say farewell, to admit that he should have gotten out while he still had the chance… he found himself stumbling to the sand-covered arena floor with a forceful shove, the entire crowd laughing and jeering at his fall.

  Alex’s face flushed with shame as he quickly got to his feet, eyes taking in the mood of the crowd entire and the hostile gazes of the trio of powerful cultivators sitting in box seats whose presence weighed upon him. It was nothing for his Qi Perception to pick up both the deadly potency and contempt they all radiated.

  Alex winced, realizing what a fool he had been, to have mistaken Zhao Doushi’s decency with the mindset of the temple as a whole. Not true at all. Save that one man, who had been so determined to coax Alex out before he got himself killed, the rest of the school hated him on sight.

  Truly, he had been a fool to even think he’d get a fair shot.