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

by M. H. Johnson

  Would always cut him down before he could possibly ascend.

  Eager to destroy him before he could even take the first steps along a divine cultivator’s path, so deeply did they oppose him.

  So be it! a dark, terrible, infuriated part of him thought as a pair of fully armed and armored cultivators radiating the potency of Earth and Fire Qi entered the arena, approaching Alex with killing glares.

  Chaos and change. The inverse of rigid order. A balancing force and a tool Alex had striven to manipulate in the gentlest of manners.

  No longer.

  He sensed it then, like he never had before, that carefully channeled and manipulated Dark Qi could be used in ways dark and terrible, far, far more potently than it could ever be used to create and catalyze carefully directed change.

  And he had so much of it, his mind gently caressing his collection of Lesser Beast Cores and one Greater Spirit Beast Core. His rapidly-spinning massive ball of Dark Qi stored in his divine ring just a heartbeat away.

  Alex smiled a killer’s smile that gave even the approaching armed and armored cultivators pause.

  If he was destined to die?

  He wouldn’t die alone.

  He would take out the whole damned school.

  33

  A heartbeat from unleashing sweetest destruction, Alex caught Hao Chan’s terrified gaze.

  Seated right next to Elder Panheu himself.

  “You will hold! And you will do so now!” the cultivator snapped, radiating a silver white potency so brilliantly that even Alex gasped, the master daring to reveal a power that dwarfed even the sneering Lai Leng.

  Instantly, the approaching cultivators froze. Not daring to move a muscle. But by the looks in their eyes, they couldn’t even if they tried.

  “What is the meaning of this, Panheu?” snapped a furious Lai Leng. “Judgment has been passed; you have no right to interfere!”

  “I have every right!” the man roared. “You were never a graceful loser, Lai Leng, and your hatred of Ruidians is well known! This boy is guilty of nothing save survival! He tried for mercy once before, and if you remember, Lai Leng, you had him whipped to within an inch of his life for failing to kill a damned farmboy who never should have been here! You’ve made it all too clear he is fighting for his life!”

  He paused, staring at the crowd, flashing an icy smile. “Therefore, by right and precedent, I recognize these sands as an Arena of War!”

  The shocked spectators grew deathly silent as Elder Panheu spoke on.

  “This is a killing field for the Ruidian before us. To lose is to perish before the wiles of corrupt enemies who would like nothing more than to see him dead! And the sacred rites of the battlefield are something even you dare not touch, alchemist! Did you not see his performance, dancing on the crux of life and death? Magnificent! The way he dodged your pawn’s pathetic attacks shows a grace few students can match, yet derived from soldier’s arts that even the lowest of cultivators can aspire to! It is for performances such as this that we all attend. Performances that may grant future captains and generals breakthrough insights in understanding their opponents and the dance of the battlefield. Performances far more visceral and valuable than all the mock fights that do nothing save instill techniques learned on battlefields just like this one!”

  He slowly smiled as the audience’s murmurs grew.

  “I exercise my right as Senior Cultivator and declare this a Death Trial! The Ruidian will fight for his life. All his matches will be killing matches. He may spare his foe’s lives, but he is under no such obligation! And all of you will observe his battles. Taste his desperation, feed upon his inspiration, and grow in ways striking and profound!”

  Alex froze, slowly releasing his will from the pulsing orb of black power screaming for release… before fading to quiet whispers safely tucked within the depths of his ring once more.

  Elder Panheu flashed a bemused smile as dozens of young cultivators gazed Alex’s way, many with rapt smiles upon their faces, others peering at him with considerable focus, some even with looks of sympathy, as if only now seeing him as a person.

  “And now I will address the Ruidian, honoring him as I would any man about to embrace his death.”

  And when those pale blue eyes gazed into his own, Alex paled before the weight of the man’s potency, bearing down upon him, crushing him, even as he feared them glimpsing the dark secrets he held in the depths of his soul.

  It was all Alex could do to jerk his head away, transforming the movement into a graceful, even grateful, bow.

  “What is your name, Ruidian?”

  “Alex Hammer, Elder Panheu.”

  The man flashed the tiniest of smiles. “So you were actually paying attention. Good. You understand the nature of your battles, yes?”

  Alex nodded. “For me, they are death matches, sir, and I should treat them accordingly.”

  The man dipped his head. “For you are now an enemy soldier, fighting for his life, bound by the rules and traditions of all soldiers at war.”

  Alex’s guts twisted, fearing yet further traps. “May I know what those rules and traditions entail?”

  The man chuckled. “No entrapment, boy, you need not fear that. By the same token, there are no limitations in what you can do within the ring.” His gaze hardened. “No judge interference is permitted or allowed. This is no longer a contest; it is a death match. It ends with your death, or the death or parole of your foes. Your handler will explain the details. You will be expected to fight at all times, as if your life depended upon it. Because it does. In return, you will be granted a boon. And it will be considerable. Do you accept these terms?”

  Alex swallowed, heart racing, then quickly nodded his head. No matter his reservations, he knew he really had no choice in the matter. At least now he had a fighting chance. And unless he missed his guess, the cultivator had let slip a condition that could be incredibly useful in times to come.

  “I do, Elder Panheu. If I may ask, what about the slave boon I requested?”

  “Null and void!” snapped Panheu. “That boon is denied to you, even if you survive!” He turned, smiling at Lai Leng. “This is acceptable to you, is it not?”

  Lai Leng’s hostile glare was twisted by a feral smile. “You make a mockery of the trials, but in this alone I accept your judgment! The slave will meet his end on those sands, win or lose!”

  Elder Panheu beamed back at Lai Leng. “Wonderful! I agree completely! I am glad we are in accord, Lai Leng!” He turned to glare at the pair of armed cultivators who had originally entered the ring to claim Alex’s head. “You men, bring our prisoner of war to the smithy. He is to have his collar removed at once!”

  “What? How dare you!” Lai Leng’s eyes bulged with fury. “He is a Ruidian slave and will die a Ruidian slave! There are no exceptions!”

  The silver haired man’s gaze hardened. “Actually, there are, Lai Leng. Any man who fights for his life in the arena is granted freedom as his foremost boon, should he survive. And only free men can be soldiers. This is a death match. He is to be considered a mortal opponent, and no man may truly fight with all his heart unless he is free! So the slave he was has perished, and his slave’s boon is forever denied him!” He flashed a dark smile. “Just as you agreed, Lai Leng.”

  The alchemist’s eyes bulged with fury. “That is not what I...”

  Elder Panheu’s smile grew. “Are you truly willing to stake your cultivation on semantics?”

  The alchemist froze, aghast. “No! I… Fine!” he spat. “Then that means any cultivator can fight him!”

  Elder Panheu tilted his head. “That depends.” He turned to Alex. “What boon would you ask, should you survive this death match?”

  Alex swallowed, dizzy with the pace at which his circumstances were changing.

  In some ways even worse, if possible. In others, so much better.

  He didn’t even fight it when one of the pair of men who were to have been his executioners forced him t
o his knees as another man radiating the power of Metal and Fire to a degree he had only felt from Liu Jian before, with the strangest violet eyes Alex had ever seen, came forward with a pair of silver shears.

  For a heartbeat, Alex’s thoughts raced with terror.

  “Fear not your freedom, boy. Not even the most spiteful of elders would soil our school’s reputation, cutting you down under the guise of freeing you. Now state your boon!”

  “For my fights to count!” Alex blurted as the silver shears kissed his skin without leaving a single mark, yet cleaving through the infuriatingly durable iron collar that had caused him so much grief when his botch had somehow spiritually fused it to his neck. Yet now it was effortlessly sheared through and removed, as if it were made of softest clay.

  Artificer skill check made. You sense Spirit Shears attuned to the element of Metal. They can cut through any metal that is not itself a Qi-infused or Holy treasure, as if one were cutting clay. Against any other surface, the shears will leave no mark, as if they themselves were made of clay.

  Alex gasped with profound relief beyond words as the two halves of that hated slave collar fell to the ground.

  He couldn’t help smiling at the heavens.

  He was free.

  He might be about to face who knew how many duels that could cost him his life, but at least he would die a free man.

  For that gift alone… He felt the final flickers of the caustic killing fury that might have taken out the whole school, if he hadn’t been struck by Hao Chan’s soft amber gaze, fade away.

  Elder Panheu frowned. “Are you saying you wish your matches to count as your entrance rank, as if you were a prospective aspirant?”

  Alex swallowed, then jerked a nod. “Yes, sir.”

  The cultivator abruptly burst into laughter. As did half the school.

  Alex felt his cheeks flush with sudden heat as the crowd’s scorn washed over him. And he would have felt so much worse, indescribably worse, if he hadn’t seen the calculating glint behind the cultivator’s mocking smile.

  “What a wonderful jest. A Ruidian daring to enter this school as an aspirant! Such a thing has never been heard of, and what a wonderfully absurd day this is turning out to be.” Panheu flashed a bemused smile. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather ask for your weight in silver or the choicest manor in the Ruidian district with a modest stipend to see you through to a ripe old age? Perhaps an enchanted spear with which you may hunt spirit beasts and earn a generous income for whatever town or village outside the named cities you might one day travel to?”

  Alex solemnly shook his head. “If I am to be granted any boon, it is to be counted among your number, Elder Panheu. For no amount of wealth can compare to the honor of being allowed admittance into the most prestigious school in the entire kingdom, even if I can never master a single cultivation technique. Even if all I can do is learn the most basic martial forms at the footsteps of true masters.”

  The crowd’s whispers intensified, not all of them hostile. Alex smiled on the inside. No matter your standing, gross flattery could only help mitigate undeserved animosity.

  Panheu snorted. “Even if all your limited skills allow for is a life of servitude? I could use a fresh lad to keep my quarters tidy. Are you really willing to give up a fortune in silver, property, or even a magical treasure, just for the privilege of serving as my broom-boy?”

  Alex flourished a sweeping bow, despite the snickers of the crowd. “It would be my honor, Elder Panheu.”

  The cultivator chuckled softly, ignoring Lai Leng’s glare. “The papers received from one merchant named Hao Zei, who we now know to be an infernal cultivator…” the crowd hissed and gasped at this. Lai Leng looked incensed at the ugly truth so blithely revealed. “Do attest that one Alex Hammer was lawfully purchased after being enslaved for the crime of rape and murder. Do you admit to these crimes?”

  “I do not!” Alex shouted before the crowd. “I was lost in exhausted slumber by the river when I woke up to find myself collared and captured by slavers. My only crime was surviving a fight that should have killed me.”

  “A likely story!” snapped the alchemist. “I declare him to be a murderer, rapist, and a liar! Worst of all, he’s a Ruidian! He is worthy of nothing save death, his putrid ashes to be scattered upon the sea! May his spirit wander restlessly forever, eternally denied rebirth, as just punishment for daring to insult this school!”

  Elder Panheu positively beamed. “A worthy point, Lai Leng. We have before us a pair of irreconcilable claims that diplomacy alone cannot hope to resolve! These are the stakes of our battle. A matter of honor. Of principle. Of empty words like so many others that have seen countless millions of our sons and daughters butchered in countless wars. So what’s one more petty dispute settled by mortal combat? Should the Ruidian lose, he dies the murdering Ruidian rapist his trial of combat proved him to be. Should he live? He does so with his honor and reputation intact!”

  The murmurs of the crowd increased in intensity.

  The elder cultivator gave a satisfied nod. “Well, there you have it. A request easily enough granted that will cost us almost nothing, and save us a fortune in gold, even should he win. Best of all, I get a new servant! Very well, I will take on the role of sponsor.”

  He turned, flashing a grin at the furious-looking alchemist. “Of course, this limits the pool of cultivators he can face to aspirants seeking entrance, for only their ranks are in dispute.”

  “You are wrong!” Lai Leng snapped. “Anyone can challenge any prospective student to a match!”

  “As if they would take the hit in social standing,” smirked Elder Panheu. “Of course, a few of your cronies might stoop to such. Few others would so disgrace themselves. But even should they dare such, the results would secure the Ruidian’s boons like nothing else.”

  “It would serve as automatic qualification to enter Dragon Academy’s halls as an inner disciple!” snapped the leftmost judge, glaring down at Alex. “No Bronze Ogre would dare such!”

  Alex felt a cold chill when one powerfully-built youth blessed with perfectly symmetrical features, curly black hair, and a strong jawline abruptly blanched, before peering at Alex with unhealthy intensity.

  Alex frowned, quickly looking away. The young cultivator had looked strangely familiar, though Alex couldn’t place where he had ever seen him before. But even the smallest of gestures as the man frowned, tilting his head, abruptly moving back with the grace of a willow as a gesticulating hand he couldn’t possibly have seen from a neighboring cultivator whipped out where his head had been.

  The man was powerful, graceful, and quick. The last thing Alex wanted to do was make another enemy by staring too long.

  “And we must always keep in mind that this is a death match. No would-be aspirant will be obliged to fight him, with the stakes being far higher than going back to one’s clan like a whipped dog,” Panheu cautioned.

  The leftmost judge frowned once more, glaring at the spot of land where the groaning and now-crippled young cultivator had been carried off on a bamboo stretcher. “We already know he’s vicious,” said the judge. “What happens when no one accepts a match with him?”

  Panheu chuckled. “Then I get a new servant. About time, really.”

  “What are you talking about? That’s madness!” snarled the alchemist.

  Panheu shrugged. “What do you call an army no one dares to challenge?”

  “Victorious,” said none other than Hao Chan, catching Alex’s gaze as her cheeks dimpled with a smile that warmed his heart like the sun.

  “Correct!” Panheu beamed. “Graceful, clever, and far too pretty for the lot below. How glad I am that you have already found a sponsor!” He gave a bemused shake of his head. “What a truly remarkable host of aspirants we have before us this year!”

  The alchemist’s snarling countenance blanched with fury. “One hundred gold to the aspirant who would fight this fool!”

  Panheu immediately raised a fist.
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br />   “You dare object?” snarled the judge.

  Panheu grinned. “Not at all, so long as a purse is actually presented to the contestant who accepts. Paid up in full, to be passed on to next of kin or used as parole, as is the case with all hired soldiers or, not to put too fine a point on it, mercenaries, which anyone who takes your purse effectively becomes.”

  Lai Leng clenched his fist. “Accepted. But they will receive notes of debt with my seal. None of us carries coin in the school proper.”

  Panheu dipped his head. “Your chits and jade slips are worth their weight in gold, Lai Leng, as I know firsthand.” If anything, Lai Leng looked even more furious with those words.

  And Alex was almost certain he knew who had taken long odds on Alex in the fight just finished.

  No wonder Lai Leng had been so anxious to kill him.

  Alex had already cost him a fortune.

  A thought that made him grin.

  “I’ll take that bet!” declared one of the aspirants observing Alex’s trial while waiting for his own match to begin.

  “Done!” snapped Lai Leng, a courier quickly bringing a small jade slip to the squat, powerfully-built man who moved with the air of a soldier as he was escorted into the arena proper, taking Alex’s measure.

  Alex felt his pulse start to race, acknowledging the man’s head bob with a flowing bow of his own, grateful to be accorded even that much respect. Yet he was more certain than ever that he was looking into the eyes of a veteran. No fresh spring youth was he, but a man in the prime of his life. And the way he moved reminded Alex of ex-military back home, or Liu Jian when he sparred in earnest, no longer playing the role of cantankerous alchemist.

  And when the bell was rung and the fight began, Alex was sure of it.

  Perception check made! You recognize the style before you and have +2 to all defensive rolls to counter!

  He smiled despite himself as he parried his opponent’s quick, probing jabs, anticipating the man’s powerful diagonal kick and checking it, shin against shin, as effortlessly and smoothly as he had checked a thousand of Hao Chan’s most powerful roundhouse strikes, both their shins and the bones underneath now tough enough to crack wood with repeated blows that would do little more than redden their skin.