Karma is a wonderful thing, he thought.
“You won’t succeed, even with the Waters of Life,” Zhou Li said from behind him as they left.
To Cha Ming’s surprise, the prince was also glaring at him, though he couldn’t remember when he’d had the time to offend a Haijing royal.
“Even if I don’t succeed, I’ll take pleasure in having gotten them when you tried your best to stop me,” Cha Ming said.
Zhou Li chuckled. “I’m touched to be held in such high regard.” Then he walked up to Cha Ming, only stopping a couple of feet away from him. “But you’re mistaken about something. I wanted the Waters of Life, and I still want them. So I’ll tell you what: Give me half, and I’ll give you a way to heal your core. Without the Water Source Marrow, you’re left with only two options to heal your core: my way or crafting a transcendent pill. Do you really want to tempt fate by trying the latter?”
Cha Ming placed a hand on Zhou Li’s shoulder and squeezed tightly. “I won’t know unless I try. Besides, if you say there are only two options, there must be at least three.” He pushed Zhou Li back slightly. The prince caught him before he could tumble too far.
“Come, Brother Li,” the prince said. “We still have much to discuss. Not obtaining the Waters of Life was only a minor setback, nothing more.”
“Quite right, Brother Xuandi,” Zhou Li said. “I keep forgetting the bigger picture whenever I see this annoying gnat. In the end, he’s nothing more than an itch.” The two entered a door to the side of the corridor.
“Let’s go,” Cha Ming said to Elder Gan. They left the palace and returned to the busy streets of Haijing City.
Chapter 14: Red Dust of the Mortal World
Gentle zither music filled the air of the Red Dust Pavilion as elegantly dressed guests chatted and made merry. Wang Jun, Wang Tong, and Protector Ren entered the establishment after paying a top-grade spirit stone each. They grabbed their complimentary drinks and took note of both the guests in attendance. They also observed the beautiful ladies accompanying them. It was easy to tell the difference, for there was a rule here: only courtesans wore red.
“I didn’t think it would be so expensive,” Wang Tong said apologetically. “I never would have suggested we come here otherwise.”
“No need to apologize,” Wang Jun said. “The key to successful price discrimination is that each customer be willing to pay. Given how much the Red Dust Pavilion has flourished over the past year and a half, I can only assume the price is worthwhile.”
Protector Ren coughed. “I’ve heard that many cultivators come here for inspiration when they reach a bottleneck in their cultivation. One minute they’re stuck with an unbreachable obstacle, and the next, they break through as though the wall they struggled with had never existed. If that’s not worth a king’s ransom, I don’t know what is.”
“I’m quite looking forward to Miss Bingxue’s performance,” Wang Tong said. “She’s the most popular mistress—that’s what they call the courtesans here. Dozens of high-profile men have their eyes set on her.”
“Then they’re living a fool’s dream,” Wang Jun said. “Courtesans manipulate the hearts of men for money, and anyone chasing them can expect to lose their life’s savings, if not the savings of several generations.”
The two men beside him shifted uncomfortably as dozens of guests shot them hostile glares. The ladies in red said nothing, however. They simply smiled in stride as though he’d never uttered the hurtful words in the first place. That’s what made them frightening: their cold indifference to the words of others. Nothing was scarier than a woman who tolerated the insults of others.
“You could have been nicer about that,” Wang Tong whispered. “Besides, I brought you here for a reason. You’ve not been yourself lately.”
“No point flogging a dead horse,” Wang Jun said.
“I think that’s what he’s talking about, young master,” Protector Ren said wryly. “And I must say I completely agree with him. You’ve always been a fighter, not a doorstop.”
Wang Jun sighed. He knew they were right. The past year and a half had taken its toll on the confident young man. He’d made progress, but not much. Meanwhile, his brother was outpacing him in every metric that mattered. As they walked over to an empty table, a nearby crowd gasped. Intrigued, Wang Jun edged a little closer until they saw a fit but graying man with short-cropped hair. He wore fancy black-and-gold robes and a thin silver rapier on his belt.
That’s Bei Mu, heir of the Bei Clan, Wang Tong sent his way. Very influential. Their families control several mines in the North. They also own several moneylending agencies.
Wang Jun nodded as he listened to the man’s story. “And that’s when negotiations fell apart,” the man barked. A woman in red, clearly the man’s target audience, showed a slightly shocked expression while holding her wineglass. Other ladies—clearly not part of the establishment—gasped louder as they fell over themselves fawning.
“Six men jumped out from behind the amber curtains without any warning, swords drawn and qi flaring,” Bei Mu said. “My own guards, two of the most outstanding gentlemen I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, stepped up and met their blades without any hesitation. They fought with full confidence against these assailants because they knew I was no slouch.
“I drew my rapier, a short, thin blade, but deadly if you know how to use it. And use it I did. I executed Seven Flourishing Clouds, a wind-based technique, to close the distance in an instant. The six assailants couldn’t react before I zipped past their defenses and straight toward the one they served.
“The first stab was for breaking his oath. He’d invited me to his house for food and drink, and everyone under the heavens
