And so, for a short while, a deceptive tranquility settled over my days, the kind of calm that precedes a storm. The days ebbed and flowed and I settled into a rhythm, balancing work, training, and my probing of Yin Chi's operations.

  The life of a cultivator balances chaos with tranquility; growth comes in cycles. After a whirlwind first few days in this body, I needed to consolidate my gains.

  In the past consolidation involved significant amounts of introspection, whether that was contemplating a dao insight, developing my inner world, reviewing a battle that I had fought, or replaying a discussion for hidden meaning. As I was now though my consolidation was much more practical.

  Each morning, I rose before dawn to train in the cellar. Each session started with lifting the weighted sand bags and working on my balance using the ropes. Basic unarmed forms, and dedicated meditation to work on the meridians in the Tidesworn Pillars came next. My mind remembered more than this body did and I needed that to be reversed. It was a perfect way to center myself before the rest of the day.

  As a measure of my spiritual improvement I realized after a few days that my spiritual perception had increased. With a little concentration I could work out, at least broadly, what stage of cultivation someone was at. It wasn't perfect and it took time, but if I kept working at it I would get faster and more accurate.

  During deliveries for Qin's, I cycled Waves Take Down a Cliff continuously while I worked. Each step and each basket of fish was an opportunity for training. The technique wasn't as efficient as dedicated meditation, but it allowed me to cultivate while working. I felt the flow of ki carving smoother and wider pathways into my meridians as I moved.

  The city started to become more familiar as I ran through them with my deliveries. I began to learn the alleyways that would shave time off a delivery, where the guards were attentive and where they were slack. Though I had not made it through the inner gate to the sect and noble quarters, I was getting to know the working districts of the outer city as well as a native. Which, in an odd way, I was becoming.

  The strange flashes of memories from this body's previous occupant grew less frequent as the days passed. By the fourth day, I could walk entire streets without experiencing that disorienting double-perspective. By the end of the week, they disappeared entirely. But I had the basics that I needed, how money worked, the fact that Shuilin Haven was on the outskirts of the Tianshu Empire, even the language and the slang in this place. Whatever insights the original Taros could offer me had been fully assimilated. I hoped that wherever his soul was, it was at peace as he saw how well I was treating his body.

  At home, I paid Yanzi a copper petal daily to keep our house organized and tidy. We didn't truly need the help, Sarei and I could manage these tasks ourselves, but the arrangement had a greater purpose. Between his schooling and evening work at The Broken Mast, the boy needed rest. The copper wasn't charity, it was payment for honest work that allowed him dignity while ensuring he had time to just be a child.

  The change in him became evident within days. While Yanzi would never be plump, the sharp hollows beneath his cheekbones began to fill, and the shadows under his eyes receded. It was a reminder that even in this world of cultivation and power, regular food and an unbroken night's sleep held a magic all of their own. Sometimes I caught him simply sitting by the window, watching people walk by with a contentment that made me wonder if I had ever been so easily satisfied.

  But Yanzi offered more than just domestic help. His true value lay in his connections.

  "You know other children like yourself, right?" I asked him one afternoon as he set the fire.

  "Course I do. I know all of the street kids in the city. Have to, we all look out for each other."

  I smiled at his pride. "Does that mean they might be interested in earning some money?"

  He sat back on his heels and looked up at me. "Always, as long as we don't get beat too bad. But doing what?"

  I need information about Yin Chi and The Golden Current. Everything. Who comes and goes, which guards work which shifts, where Yin Chi takes his meals, which brothels he visits."

  Yanzi's eyes widened. "Really? That's a dangerous business, cuz. Yin Chi's got connections in all the right places, and in all the wrong ones as well."

  "Just watching, not doing anything," I said as I handed him a pouch of copper petals. "Two petals for each child per day. Double if they bring useful information. The most important thing is that they're not spotted. Cycle them around and tell them not to take risks. No heroes." I paused. "And don't tell them that they're doing it for me, just tell them that you've been asked to do it by one of the other money lenders."

  Honestly, I would have preferred to pay more, but at this stage excess generosity would draw too much unhelpful attention. I vowed that in time I would ensure that these children could be just children.

  Within days, I had a network of small shadows trailing Yin Chi and his employees. These children, invisible to most adults, cataloged The Golden Current's operations with remarkable precision. Every night, Yanzi brought reports: Yin Chi's morning tea ritual, the secretary's affair with a dock official, the vault guard's gambling habit and much more.

  The pieces of my revenge started to assemble in my mind.

  The afternoons belonged to weapons. Dagger, knives, sword. A ritual of sweat and repetition. I would strip to the waist and begin the grind.

  First came the intimate dance of dagger work. Mei Shulan's blade was a delight to use. Well-balanced, its weight was becoming familiar in my hand. Footwork was as important as the final blow and I practiced against the straw dummies until my arms and legs burned, then drilled again, harder.

  The throwing knives presented a different challenge. Mei Shulan's weapons were again a joy though. My aim was definitely improving but I was struggling to be consistent. Still, after a week or so I could now hit the inner ring seven times out of ten. I wouldn't bet my life on it, but it was progress nonetheless.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  As a reward for having trained with the other weapons, I always finished with the sword, my true love. The marine's blades were decent for training but I would look to acquire better before I actually had to fight. Yet, despite the quality of the tools, I started to find glimpses of both who I used to be, and who I might be again. The forms flowed naturally from stance to strike to block and back again. This body could barely lift a sword when I started, but it moved with increasing grace as I drilled basic cuts and parries over and over. Wherever he was, I was sure Tidebreaker would be proud of me.

  All of this work started to manifest itself in a satisfying physical transformation. My borrowed flesh responded to both the training, and the ki that I circulated around my meridian and muscles. In days rather than months the fat melted away, replaced by lean muscle. I channeled ki to accelerate the healing in my strained tissues, which allowed me to push faster than the normal human limits. My shoulders broadened, my core tightened, and my movements gained a fluid strength.

  After dinner every day, I made my way to The Broken Mast via the baths by the docks. The few coppers it took to get clean and shaved was well worth it. At the pit the regulars now greeted me with a mixture of caution and amusement. "Coinflip's here," they would mutter as I entered. The nickname had stuck after my third night, when I had demolished a dock worker twice my size only to be knocked out cold by a skinny tailor's apprentice an hour later.

  "Never seen anything like it," I overheard one bettor tell another. "Man's either untouchable or made of glass. No in-between."

  Ironjaw caught my eye across the pit one evening as I climbed out after a deliberately sloppy loss. The subtle shake of his head told me what we both already knew: the charade couldn't continue much longer. The regular fighters were starting to whisper, and the professional brawlers who closed out each night had started to watch me with calculating eyes.

  "You're becoming a problem," Ironjaw said as he slid a pouch of silver across his desk. "Too good to stay in the amateur fights, too little experience to move up."

  "Easily solved." I bounced the pouch in the palm of my hand. "Give me two more weeks in the amateur circle, then we make a big deal about my graduation to the professional bouts. The people will think I'm going to get squashed. They'll love it."

  The real value from the time I spent at The Broken Mast wasn't in the silver anyway, although it was welcome. It was in what the fighting did to my body. Each blow I took, and each strike I landed, I forced my meridians to respond. Ki rushed through the four meridians that made up the Tidesworn Pillars with increasing speed and volume. The pathways widened, smoothed and strengthened. What would have taken months of peaceful meditation was accelerated through controlled violence.

  One evening after a particularly brutal loss to a fisherman's son who fought like a rabid dog, I found myself nursing an ale beside the referee. The bald man with the pockmarked face sat hunched over his drink, counting copper petals with the methodical precision of someone who had learned to squeeze value from every coin.

  "Buy you another?" I gestured toward his empty mug.

  He looked up, surprised. Most fighters avoided him unless they were complaining about a call. "Generous of you, Coinflip. Especially after that beating you took."

  "Part of the game." I handed a few petals to Yanzi who was hovering in the area and waited until fresh ales arrived before leaning closer. "Mind if I ask about that stone you use to check cores?"

  His eyes narrowed slightly. "What about it?"

  "Just curious how it works. Never seen one up close."

  The referee relaxed, apparently deciding my question was innocent enough. "This old thing?" He patted a cloth-wrapped bundle beside his chair. "Basic as they come. Lesser Soul Mirror, bottom of the barrel. All it does is flash green if you've got an Initiate stage core, turns blue if you don't."

  "Seems useful enough."

  "For what we do here, sure. But it's crude work. Thing cost Ironjaw ten gold tears, and that was third or fourth hand." He took a long pull from his ale. "Better versions exist. Some can tell you names, cultivation stages, that sort of thing. But they cost more than most folks see in a lifetime."

  I kept my expression neutral while processing this information. "What if someone wanted to know more? About their own cultivation, I mean."

  The referee leaned back, studying me. "Depends how much more you want to know, and how deep your pockets run. True Soul Mirrors exist. They're high-grade artifacts that can pierce through concealment techniques, reveal hidden abilities and more. I've heard some of the major sects have them. Lord Shuilin supposedly owns one too."

  "Expensive?"

  "Can't even imagine. Never seen one myself, just heard stories." He shrugged. "Beyond what people like us could ever afford."

  Neither of these sounded quite like the soul-bound artifact I carried. The Soul Mirror that Han Kuanglie had given me was clearly something different entirely. I decided to probe further.

  "So what do ordinary people do if they want to understand their own cultivation? Beg the sects for favors?"

  The referee looked at me carefully. "You ever been to the inner city?"

  "No."

  "Figured as much. Not many from this end of town ever do." He gestured vaguely towards the inner city. "If you ever made it past those walls, you'd see City Hall, it's the administrative hub for the Haven. They've got a True Soul Mirror there that anyone can use."

  My pulse quickened. "Anyone?"

  "If you can pay ten silver fangs, and get into the inner city in the first place, sure. Course, there's a catch." His smile turned sardonic. "The city keeps records of every reading. Full documentation goes straight to the Lord's files and into the Imperial census. It's why they also let anyone who's advanced a stage use it once each time they do for free. It's easier to track all the cultivators that way."

  "So there's no way to assess your own progress privately?"

  "Not unless you're the Emperor or his inner circle." The referee chuckled. "Rumor has it they've got personal soul-bound Soul Mirrors that show more detail than even the True Mirrors, but only to whoever they're bound to. No idea if that's true though, it's just tavern talk."

  I felt the weight of my Soul Mirror in my inner pocket. So that's what it was, and now it made sense as to why Han Kuanglie had called it so valuable. This was the sort of item that only elites in this world would have. A personal Soul Mirror like mine would reveal full cultivation details without creating records or requiring external validation and, as it was soul bound, it could never be lost or stolen. In a world where information meant power, and privacy was a luxury, a tool like that could literally keep me alive.

  The referee stood and drained the last of his ale. "Thanks for the drink, Coinflip. Got to prep for the professional matches."

  In addition to picking up nuggets like I did from the conversation with the referee, an unexpected benefit to spending every night in the fight pit at the Broken Mast was that I had started to build a cautious friendship with Ghost Fist.

  After I had beaten him and then lost to him the next day, he had taken to watching every one of my fights and, better than anyone, he could see when I deliberately drew out a win or allowed myself to lose. A student of the sport, he took to seeking me out to analyze the other fights that were taking place as well as dissecting his own. With nothing better to do while I waited for my next fight, I was happy to oblige. After a few days he even invited me to come to train with him if I was free one morning.

  However, all of this was the background to my real work over the course of these days. My goal was to become a man of business.