The shout echoed around the rocky depression, shrill and vibrating with an entitlement that Jiang felt in his teeth.

  He didn’t bother responding – partially because the way he wanted to respond was with an arrow through the teeth, but also because he was curious to see how Ren would handle this. Now that he had a proper weapon – not to mention a solid vantage point and confidence in his aim – he wasn’t too worried about how the situation played out.

  He frowned. Unless, of course, this idiot is part of a Sect and fighting him brings some Elders down on our heads.

  Hmm. Maybe he should be a little bit concerned.

  On closer examination, he noticed that the two cultivators standing on either side of the idiot were wearing different outfits. They were all the same colour, of course, but while the idiot was wearing fine-looking silk embroidered with gold thread, the other two were wearing plainer robes with a simpler cut.

  Operating on a hunch, Jiang extended his Qi senses. The idiot was in the Second Realm, but only barely, and his Qi was thin and watery, fluttering in his meridians like a candle in a draft. Either he had only recently broken through and was still stabilising, or his foundations were… rather unimpressive.

  The two cultivators flanking him, however, were a different story.

  Not only did their Qi feel dense and coiled, but they were both midway through the Second Realm, probably hovering around the third or fourth stage. Further, they both clearly sensed his probe, shifting their weight a little in preparedness. A moment later, Jiang felt a gust of Qi sweeping over him as they scanned him back. Casually, he drew an arrow from his quiver – not nocking it quite yet, but holding it pointedly ready.

  One of the cultivators – Jiang was going to call him ‘Lefty’ – rested his hand casually on the hilt of his sword in response, while the other – ‘Righty’ – shifted slightly closer to the idiot in the centre, presumably ready to protect him.

  Jiang wondered why he felt a thrill of excitement at the sight instead of worry. Then again, was it really so surprising? The hunting today had been fruitful, but not exactly difficult. He hadn’t been so successful a hunter as a mortal because he disliked the idea of a challenge. Up until now, he’d been too worried about his family to indulge in any reckless behaviour, but that wasn’t the case anymore.

  Down in the depression, Ren – clearly not having seen the byplay – was frozen, staring up at the idiot on the ridge with a vaguely trapped look on his face. He looked for a moment like he wanted to bow—his shoulders hunched instinctively, his hands coming together in a submissive clasp—but then he glanced up at Jiang on the rock, and something in his posture stiffened. He forced his spine straight, though his hands were still shaking slightly.

  “Young Master Yang,” Ren called out, clearly aiming for a respectful tone. “This one is Ren Li. Please, accept our apologies if there has been a misunderstanding. We were unaware that this territory was being… managed by your House.”

  Jiang wanted to scowl at the way Ren was handling this, but in fairness, it was probably the better method. Ignoring his rediscovered enjoyment of a challenge, picking a fight with three Second Realm cultivators – arguably two-and-a-half, judging by threat rating – was a bad idea.

  The idiot – or ‘Yang’, apparently, though Jiang preferred his version – sneered, looking down his nose at Ren.

  “Ren Li? Never heard of you. Likely because nobodies aren’t worth remembering. Drop any cores you’ve harvested and kowtow to me to apologise for stealing what is mine, and I might leave you with enough limbs to crawl back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

  Jiang’s fingers tightened on the string, having changed his mind on making the ‘smart’ choice and leaving without a fight.

  Down in the clearing, a flash of anger broke through Ren’s polite mask. He looked at Jiang, seeing the tension in the hunter’s frame, and then back at the idiot.

  “With respect, Young Master,” Ren said, sounding notably less respectful, “No cultivator has a claim on a spirit beast unless they are actively fighting it. The beast is dead. We killed it. By right, it belongs to the ones who struck the killing blow.”

  “By right? You dare think trash like you have rights?” Yang Guang stepped forward, Qi flaring around him in a disjointed, flashy aura of pale gold. It looked impressive, but Jiang could tell it had no substance. It was all wasted energy. “I am Yang Guang, of the noble house of Guang! I take what I wish! Guards! Kill these rats. Cut the tongue out of this fool and bring me the archer’s head!”

  Jiang tensed, pointedly nocking the arrow he was holding to the string, though he didn’t draw his bow.

  Yet.

  At the speed cultivators could move, that could change in a fraction of a second.

  The only reason he held back at all was that the retainers didn’t attack, though Lefty’s hand was now gripping his sword instead of resting on it, and Righty had taken a half-step closer to the idiot they were guarding. There was a moment of heavy silence.

  Yang Guang looked back at them, furious. “Did you not hear me? I said kill them!”

  “There is no need for bloodshed over a single carcass,” Ren interrupted, his voice cutting through the argument. He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. Jiang could see the faint tremble in his shoulders – and if he could see it, there was a fair chance Lefty and Right could see it as well – but to the man’s credit, he stood his ground. “Especially not so close to the event. If you have a grievance with us, Young Master Yang, surely the proper place to settle it is in the arena? We are all entrants in the tournament, are we not?”

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  Oddly, the mention of the tournament clearly meant something to the guards. They didn’t exactly relax, but they were certainly less tense. Jiang didn’t understand why, but he un-nocked the arrow from the string, returning to holding it in one hand. If this turned into a fight, he was relatively confident in holding his own – but Ren would almost certainly die, and Jiang didn’t want that on his conscience.

  Even Yang Guang paused, his face contorting through a series of expressions ranging from murderous rage to sullen petulance. He looked at Ren, then up at Jiang. He glanced at his retainers, clearly waiting for them to surge forward and vindicate him, but they remained stubbornly stationary, their hands resting on their hilts but making no move to draw.

  “Fine,” Yang Guang snarled. He swept his sleeve out in a dramatic gesture of dismissal. “Keep the lizard. Choke on it. But know this, Ren Li—when I find you in the arena, I will not be merciful. I will break every bone in your body as a warning to the rest of the trash that thinks it can stand with nobles.”

  He turned his glare on Jiang. “And you. Archer. Pray we do not meet in the bracket.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Jiang said dryly. He wasn’t particularly worried, especially because he wasn’t part of the tournament in the first place.

  Yang Guang spun on his heel and stormed off back into the treeline, his white robes billowing. The two retainers lingered for a fraction of a second longer, ensuring their charge was safe, before turning to follow him. Honestly, Jiang found them far more threatening than Yang Guang’s shouting, despite the fact that they had been far less aggressive than the idiot.

  Jiang watched them go until they were well out of sight, keeping the arrow in his hands ready the entire time. Only when the forest was silent again did he tuck it back into his quiver.

  “We’ll settle this in the arena?” Jiang called down, unable to keep a note of amusement out of his voice. “Bold words for someone who was shaking like a leaf.”

  Ren let out a high, breathless laugh, sliding down to sit in the dirt. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he announced. “Please tell me they’re actually gone.”

  “They’re gone,” Jiang confirmed, hopping down from the rock. “Though I have no idea why. You just invited him to beat you up later. Why did that make them stop?”

  Ren took a moment to answer, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes as he tried to regulate his breathing. “You… you really don’t know?” he asked, lowering his hands to look at Jiang with genuine confusion. “I assumed… well, with the corruption, I thought you were just here to raise funds for healing before entering the brackets. Why else would a Second Realm cultivator be in Biragawa right now if not for the tournament?”

  Jiang opened his mouth to give a vague answer about hunting work, but Ren waved him off before he could speak.

  “No, never mind. Forget I asked. Everyone has their reasons, and yours are clearly private. I apologise for prying.” Ren pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his robes with shaky hands. “But to answer your question; by establishing that we were entrants to the tournament, I was placing us under the protection of Imperial Law.”

  “It’s illegal to attack entrants to the tournament?” Jiang asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “It is,” Ren said grimly. He walked over to the lizard carcass, picking up his discarded skinning knife, though he didn’t start cutting immediately. “A few centuries ago, there was a Grand Tournament held in the Imperial Heartland, and things got… messy. Several Core Sects were vying for a particularly potent natural treasure being offered as the grand prize. The stakes were high enough that they started assassinating each other’s disciples before the matches even began. Poisoning food, ambushes in the night, kidnapping family members to force forfeits… it was chaos.”

  Ren shivered slightly, though whether from the memory of the story or the lingering adrenaline, Jiang couldn’t tell.

  “It spiralled into open warfare,” Ren continued. “Thousands of civilians died in the crossfire. Cities burned. The Emperor… well, the Emperor takes a dim view of his subjects being slaughtered over Sect politics. He stepped in. Personally. And when the dust settled, and the offending Sects had been reduced to ash and history lessons, he issued the Decree of Sovereign Competition.”

  Jiang leaned against a nearby rock, intrigued despite himself. “Which says what, exactly?”

  “It says that for the duration of a sanctioned tournament, every entrant is considered a ward of the Throne,” Ren explained, tapping the hilt of his knife against his palm for emphasis. “It guarantees the sovereignty of the contestants. We cannot be attacked, bribed, coerced, or otherwise influenced by anyone outside of the official matches. It doesn’t matter if you’re a wandering nobody or the heir to a Noble House. If you are registered, you are untouchable.”

  “Even criminals?” Jiang asked.

  “Technically? Yes,” Ren nodded. “Even bandits or wanted men can compete. The Law is absolute. Of course, the moment the tournament ends, that protection evaporates, and the local magistrates usually arrest them immediately. But until the winner is decided and the prizes have been handed out? They are safe.”

  He gestured vaguely in the direction Yang Guang had fled. “By stating that we were entrants, I placed us under the protection of the Imperial Adjudicator stationed in Biragawa. Attacking us would be an affront to the Emperor himself. If they had attacked us, and word got out, the consequences would be… severe.”

  Jiang turned that over in his mind. “So if I were, hypothetically, participating in the tournament,” he said slowly, “and some people from a Sect decided they wanted to drag me off somewhere I didn’t want to go… they wouldn’t be allowed to. At least, not without risking being flattened by the Empire.”

  Ren shot him an assessing look, clearly deciding not to ask. “Hypothetically,” he agreed slowly. “As long as you’re a registered participant and you haven’t broken any laws yourself, anyone trying to coerce you would be taking a very large risk. There are always ways around things, of course – people can be threatened after the tournament, favours can be called in, debts leveraged – but during the event itself, you would be… sheltered.”

  Jiang considered that for a moment. “The whole point of cultivating is to defy the Heavens,” he pointed out. “Surely there’s going to be some people willing to defy the Emperor, especially if they think they can get away with it?”

  Ren chuckled. It was not a happy sound. “The Heavens will just strike you down. The Emperor is a little less… discriminate. Where do you think all the stories of the Nine familial exterminations come from? Even the cultivators that have outlived their families still have friends, and the Emperor’s reach is as long as his memory. No one can escape forever.”

  Well. Jiang wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that.

  He glanced at Ren, who had finally started hacking at the lizard’s scales with renewed vigour.

  If things went wrong – if the Azure Sky Sect somehow found him again, or if someone discovered he was a Pact-bearer – could he use the tournament to his advantage? Buy himself a few weeks of guaranteed protection, at the cost of putting himself on a stage for all to see?

  Not worth the risk, he decided, pushing off the rock. The protection would run out quickly, but people don’t forget easily, and I’d be helpless afterwards.

  He thought for a moment longer. Then again, always good to have more options, no matter how bad those options may be.

  “Well,” Jiang said, adjusting his quiver and jumping down to join Ren in butchering the lizard. “Let’s hope your shield holds up. Let’s hurry up, though – sun’s going down, and I don’t fancy walking back to Biragawa in the dark.”

  “Agreed,” Ren grunted, wrestling a claw free. “Just… keep an eye on the treeline, will you? Imperial Law is great, but Young Master Guang didn’t strike me as the type to consider consequences before acting.”

  “Way ahead of you,” Jiang said, fingers brushing over the arrows in his quiver as he turned his gaze out to the darkening forest around them.

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