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

by M. H. Johnson

  Only to find himself hip tossed almost before he could blink, powerful hands that had been intent on grasping so intently now lurching forward to grab Hao Chan’s uniform as she fluidly twisted and braced, much as she and Alex had gone over a thousand times before.

  And so gracefully that the sheer coiled power of her movements was utterly disguised.

  It had looked like he had tripped on the sand, more than anything else.

  The crowd gazed in speechless awe at the young man, prone on his back before the smiling angel of the arena.

  She beamed down at the powerfully-built aspirant in that breathless pause and flashed a playful wink. “I think you owe me a kiss, young sir.”

  And there was no flash of frustrated fury.

  The young cultivator gave a rueful chuckle echoed by a crowd who felt for him, even as they were awed by the angelic beauty performing before them all. And in the envious whispers Alex could almost make out, it seemed like each and every one of those cultivators would have loved to lose that match, Hao Chan blushing as prettily as any performer at the boy’s shy kiss to her cheek.

  She then had the panache to clasp his hand and lead him in a shared bow before the judges, as if they had been putting on a shared performance together.

  “And that was our match, your honors. Thank you for hosting us,” she said.

  The crowd roared its approval.

  And when the judges made it clear they expected her to repeat her performance before all her future fights, so the school might better study her intriguing style, she all too happily agreed.

  Alex thought it sheer genius. Hostile judges that would be all too happy to see Alex fall were as tame as kittens with the gentle gazes of grandfathers before her spirit-lifting smile. A cultivator who had ruthlessly broken his opponent’s elbow the prior match was almost dreamily smiling as he bowed by the side of the arena’s undisputed queen, Hao Chan having already won over the hearts and minds of everyone watching.

  And in a secret, hopeful corner of his heart, Alex hoped the judges would find some way to squeeze her into the host of accepted candidates, even if she faced far more brutal matches than the one she had just survived. Then Alex saw her, the young female cultivator with a noblewoman’s poise who radiated a solid Bronze cultivation and wore a master’s uniform, now gently leading Hao Chan away. A beautiful woman that Alex was somehow certain was Lady Jidihu, and now Hao Yin’s mentor. And even if her cleverly worn scarf and iron hard discipline gave away less than was normal, a certain foxlike cast to her features and those light green eyes gave it away.

  She was kitsune, and had taken Hao Yin’s cousin under her wing as well.

  The knowing look the pair of women shared, as mentor solemnly led initiate off the arena sands, made it clear that the kitsune understood exactly the game being played, and was probably the one to coax Hao Chan to play it.

  Alex couldn’t help but grin in approval.

  And then came the hard knock on his door.

  His own match was about to begin.

  30

  “I’m going to kill you, Ruidian. See if I don’t!” declared the sneering cultivator in his too small gi, attempting to intimidate Alex with his glare in the seconds before the judges would sound the horn and their fight would begin.

  Alex said nothing, just doing his best to get the measure of his opponent, the shorter man taking deep, ragged breaths, showing poor discipline for a cultivator. He seemed to be in his early twenties, built squat and thick, with a low center of balance and the build of a farmer or wrestler.

  To Alex’s mild startlement, his opponent shot for his legs the moment the bell rung, proving to be faster than the lugubrious stocky build had suggested.

  And had Alex not trained so intently for so long with someone just as quick and deadly as he was, the farmer-turned-cultivator might have snatched him by the legs before following through with a crude yet highly effective body slam.

  Alex could only guess that the man had wrestled extensively, the rules so ingrained he fought with them still in play, no matter that his head was left wide open.

  And Alex fought as well with reflexes now deeply ingrained, though his had been honed in the crucible of battle.

  The visceral crunch of his knee bomb shattering his opponent’s orbital rim with the combined force of Alex’s torque, 15 Strength, and his opponent charging literally face-first into Alex’s knee, was a sound that would have filled Alex with darkest glee, were he fighting an infernalist or slaver.

  As it was, he faced nothing but a foolish young farmer who hadn’t thought beyond the grappling rules of his community, a style of fighting that was already frowned upon.

  Alex instinctively jumped back as the youth collapsed, screaming, to the ground, writhing in agony as he held his shattered face.

  “Illegal eye gouge! The Ruidian slave loses by default!” roared the incensed middle judge, his face an older twisted mirror of Lai Wei’s own, glaring at Alex with the same deep-seated hate Lai Wei himself had shown just before scalping Alex, what now felt like a lifetime ago.

  Alex’s eyes widened in stunned disbelief. He had done nothing but react on instinct to a man seeking to break him, and hadn’t attempted any eye gouges whatsoever. How could he? His knee, or more accurately, the hardened ropy muscle just above that he had trained and conditioned to be almost as tough as his shins, struck like the head of a mace, not a skewering rapier.

  But Alex was no fool. He knew the only thing he had done wrong was to be the one still standing. And the malice he sensed radiating from the middle judge made it clear his very survival was a crime that the man would happily punish him for.

  The rightmost judge shrugged, his disdainful gaze Alex’s way making it clear that despite wearing the face and countenance of the most serene of cultivators, he could be as callous and indifferent as the basest mortal. But before he could nod his assent, their conference was interrupted from the most unlikely of sources.

  “Objection!” a voice in the crowd almost-lazily said.

  Alex, too shocked to do more than stare at the travesty of justice taking place, whipped his gaze around to the source of that single priceless word.

  Catching the bemused gaze of an older man with snow white hair and a shimmering white cultivator’s robe wrapped about his frame.

  The leftmost judge frowned. “This panel recognizes Elder Panheu. What is your objection, Elder?”

  Twinkling eyes and a soft chuckle met those words. “I object to the unfortunate confusion that appears to be plaguing the honorable central referee of this match. I fully understand that his position is the highest honor, well-deserved after his many years diligently forging the most sacred medicines and cultivation pills so selflessly, for the benefit of all. However, I fear such devoted specialization has come at a price. So the shame lies not with dear Lai Leng, but with his fellow judges who sadly neglected to inform him that it is physically impossible to inflict an eye gouge with anything larger than the eye itself.

  “What we have here, as any spirit doctor or healer could attest, is a shattered orbital rim. A knee strike the young Ruidian in question performed quite admirably. We certainly wouldn’t want to let a distinctly unorthodox interpretation encourage our cultivators to practice inferior techniques, fearing what should be nonexistent penalties, now would we? The price we would pay when challenging other schools for prizes, prestige, or cultivation status, would be far dearer than the purses a few foolish cultivators lost, betting against the Ruidian. Don’t you agree?”

  He flashed a cold smile at Lai Leng’s blanch, and seemed utterly unfazed by the glittering daggers of hate the alchemist sent his way.

  “Of course, gambling amongst cultivators during the trials is frowned upon, and the social repercussions of judges betting on contestants they oversaw would be nigh unthinkable. Fortunately, I’m well aware that these concerns are, of course, just as hypothetical and absurd as dear brother Lai Leng’s unique judgment. Now unless you fellows would l
ike to formally declare that knee strikes count as eye gouges to our students, I think we can do away with encouraging any further unique interpretations of the doctrines that have stood our school in good stead since the trials began, countless centuries ago.”

  The rightmost judge blanched, the leftmost one frowning thoughtfully at Alex, before turning to a furiously whispering Lai Leng, still glaring daggers of hate at Alex and his unexpected savior both.

  At last, the leftmost judge spoke. “The panel has considered the words of Elder Panheu. The knee strike in question has been voted a fair and legal blow, as per ancient precedent. And as per ancient precedent, whenever a match is interrupted by any third party, both contestants are allowed a period of rest. And by way of apology to the aspirant cultivator and to demonstrate his humble acceptance of your judgement, beloved elder, our master alchemist himself will treat his wounds.”

  Alex blinked as the injured youth was slowly lifted to his feet and brought a little way off while Lai Leng solemnly placed ointments around the cracked bone that would do little to rush healing, though the potion he gave the youth had him trembling, fists clenching spasmodically.

  And the hostile glare Lai Leng speared Alex with left a knot in his gut, as the alchemist whispered fierce, angry words into the trembling youth’s ears.

  A frowning Alex peered up at his unexpected benefactor.

  But the man didn’t even meet his gaze, and seemed quite content with the judgement, for all that it was the aspirant alone being tended to, his opponent left to his own devices in the sand.

  Not that Alex was surprised.

  And the look the young man sent his way with his one good eye, the other looking slightly off-kilter, a sight which sickened Alex, sent chills down his spine.

  The aspirant was still going to fight.

  Even with his cracked orbital rim.

  Which was madness. This was an arena full of trained warriors. They must know that if Alex hit with force in that area, bone could cave in and the kid would either become a crippled vegetable or outright dead, to say nothing of losing his already damaged left eye.

  What the hell were they thinking?

  “Are you ready?” one of the judges asked, all of them gazing at the youth.

  He gave an angry nod of his head.

  “Then begin!”

  And almost before he could blink, the kid was roaring and racing for him, and Alex effortlessly weaved aside.

  He leaped upright with a roar, the kid twisting around with chilling speed and racing to grab Alex yet again. And again. Were it not for his Rank 5 Qi Perception, so acute that he was able twist and dodge aside even when his opponent tried to grapple him from behind, he would have been tackled minutes ago.

  Of course, striking the foolish aspirant would be effortless, but Alex had a really bad feeling, focusing all his attention on understanding his opponent, never mind the mood of the crowd, tuning out all distractions, until at last it all clicked.

  A tiny flash of intuition. Or perhaps it was Soul Sight and Find Weakness, working together for just a heartbeat, a heartbeat that might serve him well one day when he was far more skilled than he was today. But the flash he had gotten was so chilling he realized how right he was to have obeyed his intuition.

  For all that he hadn’t used Adderstrike at all when training with Hao Chan, they had both grown in ways surprising and profound, striking each other full force, toughing their bodies, their flesh and bone, building up their natural resilience, following a strange path of body cultivation without even fully realizing it.

  When they struck, even without enhancing their blows, they could shatter bone in anyone weaker than themselves.

  And he had.

  The Find Weakness skill check made it obvious.

  The young cultivator’s skull was a mass of hairline cracks.

  If Alex struck full force, the kid would perish.

  And there was no way any healer or alchemist wouldn’t have spotted that.

  But instead of calling the fight, Lai Leng was so hungry for the win that he had dosed the youth with some sort of powerful stimulant.

  All of this took only a heartbeat to process.

  Finesse check failed!

  A heartbeat Alex didn’t have to spare as he was abruptly tackled and brought to the ground.

  Alex struggled to counter but, in the tackle at least, the kid’s skills were considerable, preventing Alex from getting his knee up in time, taking away his power, balance, and position so he couldn’t flip his opponent off.

  For a heartbeat Alex struggled just to slam knees against ribs, and even flat on his back in a horrible position, his strength and power were such the youth actually grunted, but his sticky hands would not let go of Alex no matter how he strove to pull him off.

  And when the kid actually tried to headbutt Alex in the nose, he was the one who screamed.

  With hardly a thought, Alex tried to brace the kid’s skull.

  “Your head’s cracked, if you headbutt me you’ll kill yourself, idiot!”

  “That’s not what Master Lai Leng says, slave!” snarled the incensed-looking youth, hyperventilating and shaking after whatever awful drug the alchemist had given him. “He says you don’t dare hit me! If I die in the ring, you get drawn and quartered!”

  “He’s using you!” Alex hissed, as they rolled and struggled, and Alex thought he heard the dreadful words that could only mean a countdown.

  “One!”

  “Don’t you get it? If I get drawn and quartered, you’re still dead!”

  “Two!”

  “And even if you don’t perish, another good crack to the left side of your skull and your brain will be as crushed as all your dreams, going home a cripple!”

  “Three!”

  The youth’s eyes were filled with something like fear. His gaze a strange mixture of both furious resolve and a desperate plea.

  “Four!”

  And he still wouldn’t let go. And without shattering his skull and killing him, or tearing those ropy clawing fingers and breaking them, there was no good way for Alex to free himself against an opponent whose one and only strength was his ground game, if fists were ignored entirely.

  “Five!” roared none other than Lai Leng. “The match ends, the victor in dispute!”

  The rightmost judge glared at Alex. “By law, slaves may win no disputed claims. The aspirant wins by default. The slave will be whipped for his failure, the same as any levee who flees the battlefield, five non-crippling strikes to his naked back. And we will remind him once more that should he dare lose three matches in this trial, his life will be forfeit.”

  Alex froze, icy horror freezing his veins as he gazed at the trio of judges, two gazing at him with coldest contempt, the middle favoring him with the most malicious of smiles. The youth he had done everything not to kill taking the moment to smash a stunned Alex in the face with a heel stomp with everything he had, cracking teeth and smashing his nose.

  “That’s what you get for daring to strike me, Ruidian slave!” snarled the man before storming off.

  And before a still-prone Alex could even scream at the injustice of it all, he was roughly grabbed by several powerful cultivators, limbs splayed as his uniform was torn off and he was made to endure the most excruciating agony of his life, feeling that awful whip cracking against flesh, biting down to his bone, over and over and over again.

  A whip coated with something hideous that burned him with agony long after he had collapsed to the ground.

  Then everything went black, and he knew no more.

  31

  You have been exposed to Painfire poison. Your nervous system has taken 2 points of permanent damage. You are suffering the side-effects of Extreme Pain & Peripheral Neuropathy.

  You have achieved 10% Immunity to Painfire poison.

  Your nervous system has taken an additional 2 points of permanent damage.

  You have achieved 20% Immunity to Painfire poison…

  �
��

  You have achieved 90% Immunity to Painfire poison. No further damage taken.

  You have achieved 100% Immunity to Painfire poison. You have mastered Painfire poison. 20 points of damage and partial body paralysis formerly designated as permanent and non-healable may now be healed. Synergism detected. Eternal Fox cultivation technique is capable of healing all injuries save death.

  Alex groaned as waves of pain hit him, waking up in his cell, only noting in passing the vicious crippling poison he had been exposed to in such quantities that he had achieved complete immunity to it before it had been burned completely from his system. But the injuries were still fresh, Alex not having cycled through his body cultivation technique when he had lost consciousness, his body only just beginning to heal them, and the agony he suffered was nothing short of exquisite.

  He was about to embrace his Eternal Fox body cultivation technique and hopefully end his agony... before freezing utterly still, sensing the cultivator behind him.

  “You’re a fool, you know. A complete and utter fool.”

  Alex felt his cheeks blaze. “I did the best I could.”

  “Wrong,” said Zhao Doushi with a certain amount of contempt. “You danced around the arena like an idiot, playing to a village wrestler’s only strengths, then refused to take him out before he could force a draw.”

  Alex flushed, swallowing hot bile. “No one told me draws meant I would automatically lose and be whipped as if I was a soldier fleeing the front lines! No one told me three draws meant my death! That if anyone managed to pin me for a measly five seconds, the match would be theirs!”

  Alex could feel cold eyes measuring him. “You have the misfortune to enter the trials at a time when the lead judge is a man who despises your kind. Both you, and the kitsune girl you rescued. Her, I can keep safe. You, I cannot.”

  Alex forced himself to turn around despite the pain he felt, catching the man’s gaze. “Hao Chan… please tell me she didn’t see that, did she?”