Chapter 7

...Cultivation?

Hari dried up.

At least, that was the only way Hari had found to explain what had happened to her after the fight. Her skin had a scaly texture and her lips became as humid sand after weeks of sun exposure. Cracked. Fortunately, she drank enough water not to die. After the fight, she thought she would die from the heat, so unbearable was the fever. But the fever disappeared, under the care of the Fist Maker.

If she could compare herself to anything, it would be an old wrinkled withered tree. But not one of those dead dry trees she saw in Rarik borders or during winter. Just a dry tree, the kind she read about in children's horror stories—specifically The Boy and the Demonic Wisteria, that was a scary story.

Although, the real horror story of the night had just happened to her.

Gojo died.

Hari couldn't believe it. First, she thought she was in a feverish delirium, or had witnessed a strong hallucination. She was wrong. Gojo had really died. What the fuck was going on? And it was her fault. She did that to him. But what did she do? She had no idea. How could Hari explain to everyone that she didn't intend to kill Gojo? Hari just wanted… to destroy him.

Heavens, she'd only done what Alin had recommended, using her breath as fuel for each of her strikes. Letting her heart pump that flaming sensation in each of her punches. Feeling her blood flow becoming one with her mind. And that had always worked.

But why was this sensation out of control today? Nothing made sense. Hari started to think that she might have done the complete opposite of what Alin had taught her. According to Alin, this should help her focus during a fight, calm her down, not kill someone. Great. She rested her forehead on the table, staring at the chains that bound her arms and legs.

They had arrested her before she could say anything. Shortly after the fight was over, and the Fist Maker care, Hari fainted, so she didn't remember anything that had happened in the meantime.

Hari was sure she wasn't in the Pit anymore. But she wasn't in the usual fetid tavern either. Where was this place? She just woke up alone, chained to a table in a big fancy salon. Hari had never seen so many tables and so many decorations crammed into the same space. Rich people really had money to spend, huh? Damn, the salon even had that thing... chandelier. The first time Hari heard about chandeliers was in the Cultivator's Treasure, during the group visit to the Sun King's castle. How did they light these things up?

That was just an affirmation of how poor she was. If there were people who could go to places like this, what would their homes look like? She once heard of houses that even had personal ponds where people bathed and had fun together. What did they call it? Oh, swimming pool.

Hari turned to look around when she felt a searing pain. She still had broken ribs and a crooked nose. Sometimes she felt blood rushing through her nose when she breathed. At least she didn't bleed in the important places anymore.

What if she had internal bleeding? Would she die here, sitting? That would be the worst death ever, since her goldfish died because she thought it could fly. Well… she shouldn't be thinking about death right now.

Hari knew she was just trying to avoid the idea of ​​having killed a person. Something she never imagined herself doing. She thought she would cry when this happened, but she just felt confusion, pain, and guilt. A guilt that consumed her from the inside out. Worse, she could barely remember Gojo's face in the last few moments. Everything turned red.

Still, was there really a need to arrest her? Hari remembered what happened during the fight. How she had jumped on Gojo like a crazed beast.

I think even I would arrest myself.

Hari took the solitary moment to raise a prayer for Gojo's life and to thank him for being a fantastic opponent. She apologized to Gojo's spirit and hoped that he would not seek revenge in the future. She spent a lot of time apologizing, but she was sure the entire world's time wouldn't be enough.

There were many stories of vengeful spirits out there and none of them ended well. One of the most famous was called The Phantom of the Theater — a story about an evil spirit that possessed an entire theater. Spooky. Hari had never been to a theater, but she had read and heard about them—mostly, how it was a place for people to pretend to become something they weren't. Just like every other place.

A heavy sigh escaped from Hari's lips. As much as she tried to think of other things, she had interrupted a life. A life that would have a bright future in the Pit. The weight of remorse made her sink inward.

Suddenly, the double doors to the hall opened with a violent crash and Hari saw Captain Fushi entering with the Fist Maker. Both looked exhausted, Captain Fushi in special, who had the same expression as those people who were on the edge of the precipice, but pretended to know how to fly.

“I want her locked up forever. Are you listening to me? Forever!" Captain Fushi yelled, imposing himself on the Fist Maker.

“Captain Fushi, don't be so drastic. Please—”

Hari was surprised at the Fist Maker's lack of stutter. In general, the more nervous he got, the more he stumbled over words.

"Drastic? Am I being drastic? Was I the only one who saw what just happened? That girl,” he pointed at Hari. His eyes wanting to pop out of his face, and with every word he spat out a considerable amount of saliva. The Fist Maker would have to spend hours in the bath to get Captain Fushi's fluids out of him. “She punched my best fighter to death.” Fushi said.

“Captain Fushi. It was just an accident. She didn't mean to. I, as her master, beg your forgiveness.” The Fist Maker bowed and Hari nearly jumped off the table. Since when was the Fist Maker so submissive? Where was that unbreakable pride? Hari had already seen the Fist Maker talk to Duke Ping and even in his presence, he kept himself as an equal. Was this because of her?

Captain Fushi slapped the Fist Maker's face.

Hari stood up. “Don't touch—”

The Fist Maker motioned for her to calm down. “Miss Wancheng, don’t interfere.”

Hari couldn't believe in the scene.

“That was no accident, Fist Maker. It was intentional. You were there. You saw how she jumped on him like an animal. And even after Gojo stopped fighting back, she kept attacking him like a mad woman.” he put a hand to his face. Even Captain Fushi seemed unresponsive. Hari would never have imagined that she could cause this.

“I know…” the Fist Maker whispered, but the great hall echoed his words.

“Even the mediator didn’t want to approach, out of fear.” Captain Fushi stared at Hari, piercing her with his eyes, as if she were some form of incomprehensible creature. Honestly, she also was not sure if she was an incomprehensible creature. "I don't know what you’ve been teaching her or those children, but this incident must never happen again."

“I understand, Captain Fushi. I will take the necessary precautions to make sure this incident is the last.”

Captain Fushi uttered. “You are a good man, Fist Maker. The Pit has never seen a fighter like Wancheng Alin. She was the best. We even hoped that her sister would prove to be the same, but no.” he turned his gaze to Hari. This time, judgmental eyes.

“They are different.”

“We had an agreement.” Captain Fushi placed a hand on the Fist Maker's shoulder. “I would sponsor Miss Wancheng Hari until she became as strong as her older sister, and she could stay in the Pit.”

What was he talking about? So it wasn't Duke Ping or the Fist Maker all this time, but Captain Fushi? If that was true, why did the Fist Maker lie to her? Hari stared into his eyes looking for an answer, but he just looked away again.

"My apologies. I expected Miss Wancheng to attract as much audience as her sister, but that was not the case.”

“Your apologies are not necessary. Just get her out of here. I never want to see this madwoman again in the Pit, in the Lakes Region, or near Hyperia. I want her gone.” Captain Fushi said and turned to Hari. “You are lucky we are not in Hyperia, little girl. Or you would already be dead too.” he finished and left the hall.

Hari didn't know what to say. What else was the Fist Maker hiding from her? She waited for some reaction from him. Then he slowly walked over to the table where she was, pulled out a chair and sat down.

He had such a serious look in his eyes that it made Hari shudder. For an instant, she didn't see the Fist Maker behind that man expression. The gray hair and wrinkles no longer showed old age, but maturity. It was a strange feeling, one that Hari didn't understand and hadn't gotten used to.

"Tough night?" he asked, still not stuttering.

Hari let her guard down. Although, she was suspicious, it was best to act normally. "Yea. You know… I killed a man. I don't know if you've heard the news.”

The Fist Maker smiled. He smiled? But what in the heavens was going on? “Yes, I heard the news.”

Impatience took over Hari, she needed to confront him. “What is this, Fist Maker? Why did you lie about my sponsor being you? And why aren't you stuttering?"

"Oh, the stutter." he widened his eyes, searching for some explanation. “I forgot to do it. But you should not care about it now.” He held up a finger. “Wait a bit, be patient. This hall has a wonderful Qingxiang liquor. You should taste it before we talk.”

Hari knocked on the table. He was being truly evasive. "I don't want to get drunk right now."

"I want to." he looked at her seriously. "I need to. A lot. This has not been a good night for me.” The Fist Maker turned, walking to the bar and taking a clear bottle of liquid of the same color. “Are you sure you don't want to? Brought two glasses.”

Hari rolled her eyes and picked up one of the glasses. The Fist Maker served her and she drank. The drink had a delicate and light flavor, with a dry texture. It had almost no smell. Hari had never taken Qingxiang, as Daqujiu was cheaper and got her drunk faster.

"And now?" Hari pressed.

The Fist Maker drank three glasses before opening his mouth again. “First, drink this.” he took a vial of greenish liquid from his pocket and poured it into Hari's glass. “It will help with your internal injuries.”

Hari stared at the drink. It smelled of herbs and grass. Couldn't do any harm. She drank. When the liquid reached her stomach, Hari felt a warm touch embrace her from the inside, running through all the periphery of her body, relieving her pain. What kind of medicine was this?

"What is this?" she pointed to the glass.

“Just a relaxant.” he drank another cup of Qingxiang.

"Why you lied to me?" she spoke without thinking. If she didn't ask this now, she would choke to death on her own words.

“Are you talking about Captain Fushi?” he asked, and Hari nodded. "I knew you would hate the idea." he said, but Hari still kept a dubious expression. The Fist Maker rolled his eyes. “I was trying to protect you, all right? Stupid girl."

“Protect me? From what?"

“From yourself.” he said. “You love to fight, Hari. Ordering fights is expensive. And unfortunately, the rest of the kids are already a big enough expense for me. I barely make money from every fight these days. I had to accept his proposal. Better said, I was the one who made the proposal in the first place.”

So he had done all that for her? Hari's heart warmed a little. She didn't know she had caused him so much trouble. "Sorry."

“No, I should be the one to apologize first. I shouldn't have lied to you." he hesitated. “And… I never imagined that Alin would teach you the techniques I taught her. I should have foreseen this, since you are sisters.”

So Alin had learned that from him? It made sense. Where else could she have discovered that strange form of meditation? Hari already suspected that the Fist Maker and Alin trained in secret. She was always more tired than the others. And she was also always late for every practice.

“And what is this technique? Why did I lose control?”

"Wait." he stopped and downed another glass of Qingxiang, looked at Hari and downed two more shots of the drink. He really didn't want to talk about it, Hari assumed. But she wanted to find out anyway.

“Are you still going to continue to lie to me? Hiding things from me after so many years?” Hari almost wanted to punch him, but held back. “I deserve to know what happened to me today. Why did I do that with Gojo? What did Alin teach me?”

"I don't have the answer to all these questions." The Fist Maker took another drink. "But before I say anything, how long have you known about this… technique?"

Harry sighed. “Since Alin disappeared three years ago. She taught me a few weeks before she left. But I didn’t have many opportunities to use it during fights.”

"I see. So is definitely incomplete. You probably didn’t learn anything at all." he looked quite thoughtful. “I'll be straight with you, Hari. The name of what Alin taught you is Cultivation.”