Waterstrider

Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS

I stood weakly, huffing in pain as my vision cleared. The pain’s intensity left me straining to hold at the limits of my sanity, but I held it in as I looked down at Hidoro’s slumped body. I wrenched my sword from inside of him and he fell to the ground in silence, his face frozen in a rictus of shock.

Sanguine miasma was flooding my body, and the effort I was spending to keep it under control caused my meridians to burn under the strain.

It was only a small crack in the dantian, but it was a far greater issue than any wound I had received since I first arrived on the station. If I failed to control the problem, the cracks could expand and risk shattering the dantian entirely. If that happened, I would be crippled for life, unable to use martial arts at all.

Veins bulged on my forehead as red and blue beads of miasma slowly pooled within the blood dripping from my forehead. My eyes were bloodshot and the wound on my side continued to bleed into my robes as I forced myself to stand straight. I rested my sword on my shoulder, posing as if I was relaxed and unwounded.

My eyes roved over the silent crowd of gangsters, seeing the surprise and shock on their faces after having watched me slay their leader. I was sure they had seen him as some sort of invincible, unbeatable existence.

I could hear mutters going around their group, but the only word I could pick out was the word ‘Riverfiend,’ coming from the mouths of several different individuals.

I could see Yun standing by one of the exits, an amused look on her face as if she had been enjoying a show. After giving me a meaningful glance she snuck around the corner. I turned back to the gangsters.

Suddenly, I heard Rachel’s voice whisper in my ear. It was shocking somehow, it felt like it had been days since I had last spoken with her. I didn’t feel like I had the energy for it. I needed to get done with what I had to, and then rest. That was all.

“Are you okay, Cyrus? You only have ha-“

I ignored her, tuning her words out entirely. I didn’t need to hear her talk about my injuries. I had it under control.

One of the gangsters tried to slowly back out of the room, and I stared at him, speaking slowly to disguise the strain and agony I was in.

“Stop moving or I will cut you down as I did to your former boss,” I said in a forceful tone.

He froze, awkwardly turning around to see my glare, shrinking back in fear as he glanced back on the corpse of Hidoro. The fear was good, as I wasn’t very well equipped to fight right now. If I relaxed in my efforts even in the slightest, I would lose consciousness and my cerebral dantian would shatter under the unmanaged strain.

One of the gang members finally spoke up, breaking their silence.

“S-sir Riverfiend, is there anything you’re wanting from us?”

I had to respect his boldness. He had drawn my attention to him at risk to his own life. I decided to ease up somewhat, as much as I could given the agony that continued to drain at my willpower and ability to think coherently. I was already running on fumes, as if I could collapse at any moment. I knew, however, that if I did, I would be either crippled or dead.

I turned away from the man who had tried to flee, looking at the one who had spoken up. He was a sei, taller than me and he appeared fat. Through the way he held himself I could tell that he was in fact very muscular, merely covered in a protective layer of fat. I could sense that like me, he was in the core formation realm. I narrowed my eyes at him. Something about him seemed off.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

He paused, surprised.

“I am Kein Huang, sir.” The last part was clearly tacked on as an afterthought, not that I cared.

“I see,” I replied

Another pang of agony tore through my skull and I was barely able to restrain a wince. I stilled my expression and looked across the gangsters once more with a smile forced across my face.

“I have killed your leader. While it is not the orthodox custom to claim power in this way, such is my custom. Your choices are to submit to my command or die.”

The idea that the unorthodox path operated on a leadership structure based on killing one’s predecessor was untrue, mere fancies of propaganda that Sunlit Hall used to discredit us. Unorthodox practitioners were incredibly rare on Tseludia however, and I doubted that many of those present had ever met one before now outside of plays and films.

Rachel and I had decided in advance to play up my image as an unorthodox practitioner. She had said it would be more effective for building up a strong image in their minds. It would hurt the reputation of the unorthodox forces, but the reputation they had here on Tseludia had little to no chance of affecting anything back on Canvas, so I simply did not care.

Some of the gangsters cowered before me, while others, like Kein Huang, looked more like they were considering the matter carefully.

It seemed like they were all treating me as if I were in a higher realm than they, daring not to attack even despite my injuries. I had expected at least a suggestion that someone might attack, but there was none, as far as I could tell. It seemed they believed anyone capable of killing Hidoro was someone they would have no chances of ever defeating, even if they were to attack together.

So long as the true extent of my injuries remained concealed, I would be safe.

Kein was the first to speak again.

“What are your plans for us, then?”

I grinned, eyeing them all like I was looking at cuts of meat hanging on a hook.

“I have no desire to run a gang,” I told them, “I would much rather run a sect.”

Silence filled the room again, before a clamor of shocked and confused exclamations arose within the group. I heard calls decrying me as ‘insane’ as well as a few excited whispers from a few of them who almost seemed happy about everything that had happened. I had anticipated both reactions.

To practitioners following the orthodox path, the idea of turning a gang into the foundation of a sect would have been strictly absurd. Personally, however, I found that the difference between the two could at times be quite small.

Despite its absurdity, being a disciple or elder of a legitimate sect would be a far higher social status than a mere member of a local street gang, even if it were unorthodox.

To found a sect quickly, one needed to start with a supply of existing martial artists who lacked deep ties to any other forces. Due to the Hadal Clan’s dominance of most of the martial artists in Tseludia, such a group could not be found anywhere but a gang of street thugs. I and Rachel had found it to be by far the most expedient solution.

As for the quality of the disciples we would acquire in such a way, I believed that discipline would sort them out effectively enough.

It would be hard work to sort out the sect in this way, but I needed a force under my control in order to accomplish my aims.

I silenced the room with another murderous gaze.

“I’ll give you all a choice. If you want to join the sect, stay, and if not…”

I smiled, leaving the threat unsaid. Even if one of them noticed how strained the expression was, I imagined it would only add to the effect.

“I am glad to hear that you are all on board. Now, who of you was involved in leadership of the Redwater Gang?”

A few raised their hands, including Kein Huang again. I stared at him for a moment. I was starting to find him suspicious. I would worry about it later, though, as the relentless throbbing inside of my head simply would not stop.

I then turned to another of those who had raised theirs. She was a muscular woman with a nasty scar on her neck that looked somewhat like a bite mark.

“You are?” I asked.

“I am Ran Ishun, Sect Leader. I was a squad leader.”

I raised my eyebrow at the term. She had certainly come around quickly. An opportunist, it seemed. The sort of person who was very useful to have around but impossible to fully rely on.

I went through all of the others who had raised their hands, learning their names and experience in command.

It was time to finalize the structure of the sect. I would benefit by retaining as much of the existing hierarchy as I could, but at the moment, not one of them could be trusted. It was a difficult balance to manage.

I could hear Rachel whispering additional information about all of them into my ears, trying to help. However, her words only caused my headache to worsen, and I struggled to not pass out under the information overload.

It had been far too long since she had a physical body. I got the feeling that she wouldn’t understand that feeling at all.

Damaged Dantians: [When a martial artist’s dantian is shattered, they become unable to progress further along their path, and unable to use any techniques that correspond to that dantian. If it is only cracked, then it causes severe damage to their body caused by rampaging sanguine miasma that in many cases might result in death as it will not cease unless the dantian is shattered or fully cleansed and repaired. However, techniques for repairing a fractured dantian are very rare, and in all cases require the expenditure and use of very rare materials. Furthermore, the martial artist would need to control the rampaging miasma within them for the entire time they waited for treatment, something impossible for all but those with strongest of willpower.]