Silver Fox & The Western Hero: Warrior's Oath: A LitRPG/Wuxia Novel - Book 4

by M. H. Johnson

  He shook away the sudden vision of desperate screams and retching sobs, the beep of life-support as his body writhed with tumors, sweet reverie replaced by the final nightmare flashes of the last days of a life long since passed.

  If there was one advantage to all the intense training he had undergone this past year, it was the ability to instantly enter a cultivation trance, easing his pounding heart and emptying his mind of ancient howling terrors.

  He paid no mind to his grumbling companions as he slowly came back to himself, filled with a humility and profound sense of gratitude for this second chance at life, no matter how many times he had lived it before. Of course, it had been his choices that had propelled him forward. It had been up to him to forge himself into the warrior he had become, in a body that was now as sleek, fast, and powerful as any athlete back home could hope to be, and he took fierce pride in that. But he would forever be grateful to the one who had first opened the door to this opportunity to become so much more than he once had been.

  “Thank you, WiFu, for giving me a second chance,” he whispered under his breath. “No matter how fucked up this journey has been.”

  And he pretended he didn’t see the strange, pitying glances of the Ruidians he feared sensed far more secrets than he would ever care to share, or the way their eyes widened when countless leaves rustled in a sudden chuckle. “You have already paid me back more times over than you can possibly imagine, disciple. And our most exciting adventure has just begun!”

  Alex blinked, furrowing his brow as the rustling trees behind him almost seemed to laugh at his expense.

  Definitely just the wind.

  He felt a soft hand clasp his own, An Li pulling him out of his muse as she pointed to the pyramid of rust colored stone on the lip of the crater just a short distance off, looking far more like an ancient Aztec temple than it did any eastern monastery to Alex’s eyes.

  Alex frowned, feeling a strange dark vibe, before shaking it away as nothing more than cultural discordance as An Li continued leading him forward, soft hand firmly clasping his own. “Come on, Alex. We’re almost there! Best of all, the monks never deny any traveler or would-be adventurer a safe bed to sleep in, free of charge, before discussing whatever jobs they have available.”

  “As if they had any positions fit for Ruidians such as ourselves, save one,” Yohan snorted.

  An Li rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know that, cousin. But I still think it’s good we checked the job boards back at the city. Sometimes, easy work pops up, and after what happened last time...”

  “I know, An. We both swore we’d never come back. Yet here we are.”

  An Li nodded, before catching Alex’s gaze. “We need more funds for our clan holdings,” she quickly explained. “And, well, dowries.”

  Alex raised a polite eyebrow at that. An Li blushed, as if embarrassed. “I’m sure it’s the same with your own holding, but it’s a real struggle, some years, just to survive. And even if you manage a couple boon years, that’s always followed by even more young mouths to feed, because no one knows self-control in the dark of night, and then it’s all the harder to keep the forest happy.”

  She sighed, shaking her head. “Once a clan hits a certain size, everyone knows the only solution is for a splinter clan to break off and head even deeper into the woods, maybe hundreds of miles from home, wherever one of our few druids says the forest will welcome another holding. But that all costs money. Whether it be for materials, or dowries, or coin for discreet services, or just enticing highly skilled craftsmen to join your community. And the newest communities have the highest chance of, well, not making it at all. Hence, our elders’ one rule when bringing fresh blood into our tribe is simply that they’re as fit and capable as possible.”

  Yohan smirked. “Because if you’re going to pollute our sacred bloodline, best make sure it’s with as fit human stock as possible. Which means any talented farmer or craftsman in the peak of health, with so many other opportunities available to them is going to want serious coin, or at least a very fancy house built for them, and the promise of a pretty husband or wife, before going off in the middle of Deepwoods and risking their lives on such an uncertain gamble.”

  Alex blinked. “Your clan elders really say that?”

  An Li flushed. “And they look at me when they do, just because my blood is mixed. But so is at least half our tribe, just four or five generations back, and my jewel flashes as brightly as anyone’s. Besides, no one is pureblood anymore, if you go back far enough.”

  Alex nodded. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re all just people. Some of us just have different strengths than others.”

  “Even if we’re from two different worlds?” asked Yohan as they came before the steps of the temple.

  Alex shrugged. “Three, actually. But any pair of people that can conceive viable offspring are still members of the same race, as far as I’m concerned, no matter how different they look. Even if they happen to be from neighboring branches of the genetic family tree. I mean, really, who cares?”

  The looks An Li and Yohan exchanged made the answer to that clear enough.

  Their conversation was abruptly halted when a smiling cultivator stepped past the crack between a pair of grand temple doors of banded hardwood laminated to a deep lustrous hue. Doors that, to Alex, looked stout enough to take on a siege.

  “Greetings, honored monk,” said An Li and Yohan in concert, both dropping into a well-practiced kowtow, earning a soft smile from the middle-aged man wearing a cultivator’s threadbare robes who greeted them. But what startled Alex far more than seeing his companions fall into the most deferential of gestures were the waves of exhaustion and discord he sensed from the monk before him.

  Qi Perception check failed!

  The message sent shivers down Alex’s spine, though he couldn’t say why. Alarmed that he might be missing something crucial, he put all his focus on the monk only now turning his way, hoping active concentration would make up for whatever hadn’t caught his eye the first time.

  Far from being alarmed at what Alex feared was his too intent gaze, the man hardly seemed to notice at all, gripped by a momentary fit of coughing that chilled him to hear, never having once seen a cultivator catch so much as a cold since coming to this world.

  Soul Sight skill check made! The target is doing nothing to hide the strained flow of Qi through his polluted meridian gateways! One forged channel spotted. All peripheral channels have been corroded by excess waste Qi. All gateways save the two connecting his one forged channel have been severely damaged.

  Alex hid the wince in his features as the tired-looking monk turned his way. He was at least a Bronze Rank 1, which meant he was what every budding disciple strove to be. Yet he looked the farthest thing from a specimen in the peak of health, his clogged peripherals preventing his body from even passively restoring itself like all cultivators with intact peripheral channels instinctively did, even if they were only a thousandth as effective as those who followed the path of the Eternal Fox.

  It was only when one achieved Silver, or at least had Bronze cords so potent and powerful that the sheer volume of Qi energy flowing through the cultivator could hope to make up for obliterated peripheral meridians. And even then, no cultivator would allow so much waste to develop, choking off the natural flow of spiritual energy like nothing else.

  Indeed, this poor monk was the epitome of a fallen cultivator who had surrendered to darkest vice and despair, perhaps forgoing cultivation altogether. But Alex sensed the problem was far different than that. The man’s one Bronze cord was shining brightly in a body corroded and worn, as if the last brilliant holdout in the soul of a man fighting a losing war against his own body’s corruption.

  Which made absolutely no sense at all to Alex. Did the man not know Cleansing Breath Purification or Golden Realms Meridian Restoration techniques? Though not the most common, they were common enough, and some of the most efficient at cleansing channels and nurturing the body, an
d the man before him was a Bronze, after all.

  The monk, despite his dissipated state, was clearly no fool. He furrowed his brows, now all but ignoring the bowing Ruidians, his jaded eyes taking in Alex’s physique and stature in less than a second.

  “You I recognize, An Li, Yohan, Ruidian children of a redeemed clan. But this boy I do not.” A thin arm boldly touched Alex’s brow, shifting hair now no longer singed, beholding a brow free of any gem.

  His slight frown deepened. “He is no jewel-master that I can see, yet he gazes upon me as boldly as any young cultivator who has yet to be put in his place by his betters, and you two clearly defer to him, though he is younger than you both by a handful of years.”

  “I’m only twenty-two,” said a suddenly embarrassed An Li, stealing an anxious glance Alex’s way, as if she thought her age actually mattered to him. “I will make a lucky man a fine wife one day, and bear him many healthy children.”

  “Of course you will,” said the monk offhandedly, seemingly not put off at all by the interruption, or the odd informality after they had shown him such deference.

  He frowned up at Alex. “Have your companions explained what is expected of you here? Do you have any idea of the peril you will face? How many desperate talentless fools have already died in the depths below? Well, boy? I would hear what makes you think you have any hope of surviving the perils below before I allow you admittance into our sanctuary.”

  Alex gave a bow of his head as one equal to another. He ignored the sudden hard glare of the gatekeeper, his own features warming with a smile. “The name’s Alex. And yes, it’s true that I have no jewel upon my brow like my companions do. Fortunately, it appears that for members of my tribe, jewel mastery is not the only option available to us. For those of us with the knack and discipline, the path of battle mastery, much like a cultivator, dare I say it, is also open to us.”

  He bowed his head when the monk’s jaw clenched. “I pray you won’t take offense at my chosen metaphor. Pointing out the similarities between body cultivation and my own path is simply the best way I have to describe what I can do.” He looked at his companions. “And even if I’m not as skilled in the martial arts as your fellow monks, my companions definitely need a front line fighter to get past whatever dark secrets lurk in the depths below, as you put it. They are rather squishy, with none of a cultivator’s boosted stats, after all.”

  Alex immediately pinged a swell of emotion with his Soul Sight.

  Bingo.

  His shot in the dark had hit its target. He hid his smile of surprised pleasure. He already knew just what a lifesaver it was, sensing the surge and flow of Qi and intuiting exactly how that translated to his foe striking out at him, and how best to counter their Qi strikes. He had never thought to use it in a non-combat situation like this, but even he could see how the upswell of energies in the man’s temple meridian translated to the involuntary jolt and furtive glance the gatekeeper gave before deliberately relaxing his features.

  The man snorted. “I’m sorry to disappoint, lad, but we have no dark secrets you need concern yourself with. Rather, we were sponsored by the capital to start a fledgling branch in the hopes of taking advantage of the unique opportunity to channel and make use of the spiritual energy emanating from the nether rifts below. Of course, we do offer a generous boon for any and all darkbeasts killed, as per Baidushian protocols, and pay prime rates for any beast cores obtained. Certainly better than what they will pay you in the city below.”

  Alex flashed a genuine smile. “That I’m glad to hear. I’m well acquainted with Yidushian rates for top grade lesser beast cores. For all that imperial mandates assure that farmers are safe from being gouged, it seems that merchants are still content to rip off every non-vital specialist that they can, doubling their money with a single trip to, say, Yidushi.”

  The gatekeeper flashed a bitter smile. “Such is the nature of merchants everywhere. There is an old saying my father used to tell me about living in the cities. Working for profit without the ties of clan and community is an ugly, mercenary way to live your life. It’s just a hell of a lot better than every other way ever devised for living amongst strangers, most of them involving having everything taken from you for nothing. So, vital as they are to the flow of trade that makes life as we know it possible, merchants are the farthest thing from saints. You should always assume a merchant will hustle you for every coin he can possibly get. But far better he devote himself as a merchant than a bandit, and he might just have supplies you need in turn.”

  Alex nodded. “The argument in favor of capitalism. Those who purport that socialism is superior and all goods should be shared by a group are thinking in terms of a caring close-knit community where people actually give a damn about one another. Everyone can experience socialism in its most idealized form, that being within their own close-knit family or perhaps one of the farming communities or clans. And even in such perfect settings, how often do we chafe at the bit, eager to forge a path through life that might have nothing to do with our family’s wishes?

  “And outside of those idealized settings, if the people in control don’t know or care about you personally, they will happily use any excuse to justify taking your property by force, under the pretext of giving to the needy. Which, for those in power, is always and only themselves.”

  Alex flashed a rueful smile, surprised to see nods of agreement in both his Ruidian acquaintances, the monk now gazing at Alex a bit less dismissively than he had before.

  “At least in a society run by profit, it’s in everyone’s best interest to let you live a happy, productive life because then you’re just that, productive. Even if everyone’s looking out only for themselves amongst a sea of strangers, at least in a capitalistic culture, everyone’s focused on making more and better things to sell to each other, making money by filling each other’s wants and needs, as opposed to taking it by force. In other words, far better to put your energy into growing crops or building boats and selling your neighbor something he wants, then spending all your resources hiring soldiers to take all your neighbor’s goods by spear point. One path builds a society, the other just leads to dead people and no fresh resources.”

  Alex blinked, noting the stares. “Sorry, just remembering something my father once taught me long ago.”

  The gatekeeper nodded. “Some of your words are strange, but at least I see you’re not a complete fool. Merchants in your family?”

  Alex nodded. “And we didn’t make our money by gouging people either. We genuinely cared about our customers and our tenants, and they knew they could count on us for quality goods and safe places to live.” Alex blinked back the sudden hot sting of unexpected tears, lowering his head. “But those days are long gone, now.”

  The monk gave a sympathetic sigh. “I’m guessing bandits or a ruthless competitor destroyed your family’s caravan, and this is what drove you to the path of the spear?” he said, eyeing the inert fangtian ji Alex had respectfully put down upon their approach, since it was, after all, a polearm, not a sword casually sheathed at the belt.

  Alex flashed a bitter smile, wiping away the sting in his eyes. “Death destroyed my family, and perhaps it’s a dark irony that I’ve devoted myself to the killing arts in turn.” Alex shrugged. “But there you are. For better or worse, this is the path I’ve chosen.”

  The monk sighed, giving a sad shake of his head. “I am sorry, Alex, but after the tragedies you’ve already faced, I’d hate for your family’s story to end here. You seem like an honorable lad. But the horrors you would face… on an individual basis, they are more savage even than the lesser spirit beasts you might dare to hunt in the forests below.” The man flashed a relieved smile. “Fortunately, I have heard no tale of any beast packs below. Hopefully that will remain a thing of the past.”

  An Li cleared her throat. “Actually, Master Xiao Shen...”

  Alex abruptly raised his clenched fist, stopping An Li cold. He covered for the abrupt cutoff with a
smile. “Forgive me for asking, honored monk, but have you by any chance noticed a drop off in adventurers or hunters coming this way?”

  The monk frowned. “Perhaps. Nothing significant. Our supply caravan has never missed a drop off date, but perhaps there have been less adventurers daring to test their mettle than normal of late. Why?”

  Alex flashed a genial smile. “I would not be at all surprised if that number picks up again, unless they were all regulars, in which case I fear it won’t pick up at all. Either way, would your temple be interested in purchasing some fresh beast cores?”

  Xiao Shen furrowed his brow, peering hard at Alex. “What is it you’re saying, boy?”

  Alex gazed coldly at the man before him, carefully pulling five lesser beast cores from his pack.

  The man’s eyes widened. “This high grade, they could only have come from blooded killers! You mean to tell me...”

  Alex nodded. “There was a small pack of spirit wolves using the trail as a hunting ground. Fortunately, we were able to put all but one of them down while suffering only minor injuries.” He flashed his most charming smile. “I hope this assures you of our competence at the very least, and if you’d like to purchase some of our stones, we’d be open to that as well.”

  Xiao Shen’s features paled. “Even a small pack could easily tear the throats out of a party of mortal mercenaries or even Basic cultivators before they have a chance to do anything but kick their feet on the ground and die.”

  Alex nodded. “I know.”