The next two days were hell. Even if I didn’t have broken ribs or a single bruise left on my skin, everything ached, leaving me with a constant thrum of exhaustion. Whatever that kid's Soul Ability had been, Kayson undersold the exhaustive properties of quick healing. Still, there was only one person to blame. Tristan. That fucker didn’t even message me.

Worse, because of the physical exhaustion and my miraculous recovery stopping me from showing my face—I couldn’t avoid Ma. She only took an interest if I wasn’t headed off during the day, meaning she wouldn’t put up with me laid out in my bed all day.

She forced me to go to school, each morning. Horrible.

Not a single day without shoving me out of the house with my little brother Alex. To drop him off at his middle school before I went to mine. As far as I was aware, nobody from my squad attended the same school. So, I was safe from snitches to Tristan.

Two days later, I'd had enough of going to Ridna High. “Get your shit together, Alex. C’mon.” I ran a comb through my hair. I took a special bit of time each morning to pull my looks together. Some might wonder why a no-good punk would even bother with their appearance, but if you didn’t, what did that make you? Even a delinquent had to have self-respect. Might not have many friends, might get my face kicked in from a psycho lieutenant from time to time, but by the immortals, I’d be damned if I wasn’t at least presentable.

I shoved the comb away, not knowing if I’d need it later. My hand stayed in the pockets of my baggy school uniform. Where was the little runt? Finally, Alex sprinted out of his room, backpack half-unzipped and his hair a complete immortals-damned wreck. “Got it! Let’s go!” he tried to run past me.

He froze—yanked back as I grabbed him by the collar. ‘Naw, hold on a minute.” I shook my head, little dumbass should have more common sense. I checked my phone. 7:12 am. Yeah, enough time. I swapped the phone for my comb—after I’d just put it away too—a dab of the gel also stashed in my pocket. Alex’s eyes went wide as he struggled, but there was no escape. Even a quick and nimble runt like him stood no chance when I got serious.

But he got tricky, scrambling out of his school jacket, then he dashed towards the backdoor. Nope, that wasn’t happening. I slammed a palm on my arm, grinning. A streak of blue lightning burst forth from the point of contact—numbness flooded the skin. One of Alex’s books fell from his half-open bag as I chased. My foot accidentally kicked it.

The hardback book tumbled through the air, soaring into Alex’s back knee. He yelped, the unexpected pressure throwing off his stride and causing him to sprawl across the ground. I dashed forward, grabbing him by the arm, and hefting him to his feet.

Then I dragged him to the sink. “We don’t have time! It’s fine!”

“Naw, naw, aint no little bro of mine showing up looking like a mess,” I chided. Flipping the tap on and wetting the black plastic comb. It took a few tries, a lotta gel, and some elbow grease, I fixed that rat nest of his hair into a semi-decent shape.

“What did I say about fighting?!” Ma asked, arms crossed in the entryway to the kitchen. Her messy black hair spilled across her face, and she wore her ‘I’ll beat you with a wooden spoon’ expression. Her typical go-to for me.

Usually, I deserved it, but that’s neither here nor there. This time though, I was fixing Alex’s stupid decision. I let him go, shoving his book back into his backpack.

“Wasn’t like that! This little idiot decided to run off to school looking like some mange-ridden spirit beast! What would they think about our family!?”

She tilted her head back and sighed. “Whatever you say. Luca, you two are going to run late. You’ve been good the last two days—but I’m still checking with your homeroom teacher. If I find out you did skip—“ she let the threat hang in the air. Man, I hated seeing her angry.

Normally, I got away with delinquency. I’d hand over some spirit chips to help out, using a fictional ‘job’ as an excuse, and she’d look away.

There are things families don’t ask about. Open secrets we all ignored, Ma never asked what I did for a job after I said ‘working at a store,’ not what kind of store, where it was, nothing like that. She knew, and I knew she knew it was a lie. But for the sake of family peace, it sat untouched.

“I need you to make sure you’re home tonight. No running off with friends. Your Uncle Romeo is stopping over, and I want a proper family dinner. It’s been far too long.” she asked.

“Two years, almost” Alex coughed out, one of his grungy hands already darting to ruin the hair I’d fixed. I grabbed the offending wrist, stopping the little dumbass from a grave mistake.

“Yeah, alright. I’ll be home. Right after school,” I said. Not like I had friends. It was just me, even if I ran around with the Brass Kings, nobody in my squad cared about me. Tristan saw me as a liability, and no one wanted to risk his bad side. Screw’em Didn’t need anyone but myself. That was the way of a true cultivator. I’d make my money, take my risks, then secure a future for my family.

That was the path out of this. We might not belong to the lofty Himawari Sect, nor any of the small-fry sect littering the Rising Sun, but I was a cultivator. I could get the power I needed.

Ma met my eyes. Looking for a lie. But I meant it, at that moment at least. I looked forward to seeing my Uncle again. He always got up to interesting stuff and had good stories about his travel for work. As someone who’d never been a stone-throw away from New Valentine, his adventures working for a financing firm and roaming the Rising Sun sparked my imagination. Even if he was rather tight-lipped about who he worked for.

I guess some companies were just like that. Alex gave up the struggle to ruin his hair, so I let him go, and checked my phone.

“Ah, fuc—er, we gotta get going! See ya later!” I shoved Alex out of the house. If we missed the bus we'd run late, and that'd screw Alex over. It didn’t matter if I even got to school; my grades couldn’t sink lower. Unlike me, Alex did well on tests. I might be bound for a life of struggle and strife, but I’d bet anything that this little smart-ass could go to a university, then get a nice cushy job.

We shuffled past the broken-down fence around our house. Cutting through a missing portion of the rotten wood, onto the cracked pavement in front of the duplex. We’d called this place home for the last three months, and it’d been good enough. I took special care to avoid a swaying man on the sidewalk, black veins running up and down his neck. Alchemical junkie.

Dumbasses that convinced themselves that particular illegal pills helped develop Soul Seeds. It offered a bit of a physical boost—with too many consequences. Without a Soul Seed, alchemy also polluted the body, since you didn’t have a way to flush it out of your system.

They were under the assumption that Soul Seeds could only benefit them. But growing as a cultivator was tough. There were techniques, but the main way to grow was to follow the concept of what your dao revolved around. The truth was I envied mortals like Alex. Cultivation brought problems. And at a point, it became hard to tell how many of my decisions were mine, and how many were from the subtle influence of my Soul Seed. Few reached the end of their path—immortality.

Alex tried to mess with his hair again, and I slapped his hand away. We arrived at the bus stop, hopefully, the driver ran late. “Quit it. You’re better this way. The girls will lose it when they see ya.”

“They’ll think it’s weird!” I didn’t give him a response. The dumb kid didn’t know the makeshift pompadour I gave him was the height of style. Our bus arrived. Thank fuck. We for sure ran late, but public transit had a way of being fifty-fifty odds of being on schedule. I dug out two of my last fifteen spirit chips, paying for passage.

Just feeling the lack of chips in my pouch made me want to throw a fist at that sick psycho. It took a little over a month to get that much. Sure, I’d be fine if I lost it to a bet. Fate determined that. But like that? Those chips had been mine. I’d won. Then it got taken away.

My ego stung, I slunk further into the obnoxiously patterned bus seat, hands stuffed away. Alex chattered on about history—his passion—the cultivators that had splintered so long ago and formed the Himawari Sect and later, the Rising Sun. New Valentine sprawled by as the bus mainlined through the city. Broken houses, trash, and cheap cars gave way to thickly crowded streets and towering skyscrapers as we left Southside and entered Downtown.

Some called New Valentine a city of dreams, personally, I considered it more like a playground for the powerful. You could do anything you wanted if you had strength backing you. People like me and my family? Well, we got to mingle in the muck. Might be you got lucky and made something of yourself, caught the fancy of someone willing to drag you up. Might be that you got stabbed in an alleyway after working late into the night at a bar.

We hit Alex’s stop, I gave him a quick pat on the back and wished him a good day. He could manage the rest of the way to his school. The bus roared to life. At this point in my day, I normally took the bus further downtown, maybe to Uptown and into Brass King’s turf.

School blew, and the less time I wasted there the better. Even with Ma’s threat. They weren’t there to teach people like me how to grow and cultivate power. They were there for mortals to find the best position to serve the sects.

I didn’t care how angry Ma was. Screw going to school. I missed the stop for Ridna High, then rode the bus deeper into Uptown. Turned out to be a good decision, since about ten minutes later, I got a text from Tristan. He told me to meet him at the ‘spot,’ which the bus ran right by.

Was this going to be more punishment? Did he find out I’d healed and then didn’t show up? Or was it back to work? The easiest way to get by in New Valentine was to have someone backing you. Delinquent gangs like ours roamed far and wide, but we were small-stuff compared to the Segreto Family. Unaffiliated cultivators often found trouble drawn to them.

Sects, gangs, hell even corporations. All of them were only different on paper, in my experience, the sects had more blood on their hands than any gang. So, with that desperate desire for safety, I clung to the Brass Kings. Despite Tristan. They’d be my path to power. I took my first steps into the greenery of a public park.

The Brass Kings held quite a few meetings at the Shinto Shrine in Chen-Square. A quaint park tucked in Uptown, usually unpopulated aside from holidays. Overall, a nice morning. The sun was barely in the sky, and there were a few people roaming about. A lady gave me a strange look as I went by in my school uniform. Judging me? Sure, I wasn’t in school—but should she have a fucking job? I sneered and she sped up her pace.

Dumb gawkers.

Tristan sat on the steps to a red-lacquered shrine. The small jade statue of the Stalwart Immortal graced its raised dais, there was a splash of orange and yellow marigolds surrounding it. Tristan gave a small wave, before checking his watch. “Not late this time, consider me shocked.”

I frowned at him. Fuck him, it’s not like I had a bike unlike most of our gang. Meaning, I relied on the bus. “Saw your text, was on a bus this way already. Lucky, I guess.” I stepped a bit closer to the shrine, scanning to see if any of our squad was nearby. Just us. I winced as his eyes ran over me, the feeling of his pointed boot smashing into my side haunting my mind.

He pushed his sunglasses up. “Ah, I see. Convenient than. Come, sit.”

I took a couple of drawn-out steps to the spot he gestured to, then remained standing. Crossing my arms and looked down at him.

“If you ever want to see another spirit chip, and not receive another lesson, you’ll obey.”

Asshole. Despite the lance of hate, I parked myself at the spot. Couldn’t afford otherwise. I took in the scenery and pointedly chose not to look in his direction. “Wanna make a bet for those chips you stole?”

“You’re trying to gamble with me? No. I don’t bet, Luca. That’s your problem. Instead of taking measurable steps towards a goal, to draw you forward, you instead like to hop around and fall on your face.” I wanted to punch his face. But I restrained myself. “We’ll be moving on Crimson Eagle territory tomorrow night. You will be coming. Do well, and I’ll toss ten spirit chips your way.”

This fucker stole—

“If you impress me, then you’ll be paid. I’m aware street rats like you throw their life on the line over such things.” He pulled out his phone.

“The fuck do ya mean? Aint we in the same gang? Why the fuck do ya think you’re better than me?!”

“I’m going places. Unlike you, I think about the future. I’ve even had a meeting with the Viceroy—who is quite impressed with my work ethic. Compared to you? A waste of time and space? A compulsive gambler with no plan ahead? Doesn’t that spell out the reason I’m better?” He didn’t even have the gall to look me in the eye while belittling me. Instead, spending the whole time scrolling on his phone.

The part that stung the most was his smug satisfaction. Praise from the Viceroy even for a captain was distinguishing. Normally, a lieutenant dealt only with their subordinates.

“Don’t suppose you have a bike, yet?” Tristan finally tucked away that phone.

“No, I don’t.” Where the hell would I have got the chips for a motorcycle? I’d wanted one for ages, but this bastard knew how much I earned. I’d never had the chips for one.

“Suppose no one is willing to pick you up, either?”

I grit my teeth. “No.”

“Fine. I’ll arrange for someone to get you. Text me where you’ll be tomorrow. No later than noon.”

“I—“ he didn’t wait, clambering to his feet and walking off without a word. Leaving me alone.

I turned and grabbed a handful of the marigolds decorating the shrine, shredding them, then balling them up, throwing them at the ground. Being in a gang didn’t mean you’d earn money. But this was the last in a long line of situations that I’d come close to earning a nice payday, where Tristan took it from me. I stared hard at the jade statue, knowing better than to deface it.

You never should risk offense to an Immortal—in the heavens, or on earth. I pulled out my comb, fixing my hair while stalking off and kicking at the dirt. No clue how I’d spend the rest of the day, maybe I’d go and bust a fucking window or something.