The next two weeks blurred by, and I spent the first few days recovering my strength. Then I sat down to consider my future. It was surprising to find that I felt a good deal stronger after Id recoveredthough I should have expected it. Cultivators gained power when faced with difficult oddsor so the movies said, and Id seen more adversity than usual. As a result, I keenly felt that my Soul Seed's roots had grown thick. Like a nest of tangled hair.
After the first few days, Ma forced to stop lounging in my roomShe badgered to attend school. If I spent too long in the house, she always got on my case.
It was funny, if I was out and about even with the school reporting my absence, she let be. But if I took a couple of days of rest? Thats when she got worried. Wasnt sure if it was her way of looking out for , or scared to start a confrontation. Since our dad died, shed kept Alex and close, but was afraid to press too deeply into our lives. Like wed withdraw.
As long as I left the house, and acted like my normal self, she let be. I walked Alex to his schoolan annoying trip without spirit chips to afford the bus. But we made do. Wasnt the first ti we walked a couple of miles, wouldnt be the last.
After letting my kid brother off to his classes, Id find a quiet place to hole up to let the day flow by. Often taking a couple of hours to window gaze bike shops and take in the beauty on display. Or longingly lurk near gambling dens, wishing I had chips to bet. Mostly though, I wandered and let the road pass by under my feet.
Each day brought closer to myself than before, a little less nervous Tristan would break the rules and co after or my family. I really got to thinking about why Id joined the Brass Kings. Soul Seeds drew conflict, like a bee to honey, or so they said. So were lucky and had a valuable Soul Seed that followed a tranquil enough path which allowed them to rest in peaceful atmospheres to ditate on their Dao. And that was enough for them. But among the gangs, the typical cultivator usually had a Dao that needed that edge of danger. I cant speak for others, but doing anything other than following the desires of my Soul Seed left feeling dull, and out of focus. It made a boring desk job and school a living nightmare.
I owed it to my family to pursue my cultivation. Id been born with a leg up on all the normal mortals. Id struck it lucky to them, who would spend their entire life wondering how far theyd have got if they were given the sa gift. It made feel like if I wasnt doing sothing with my blessing, I was spitting in their face. As big of a curse or blessing that it actually was.
Roo didnt let be and was the first to break out of my depressive state. Spontaneously showing up and taking from the house late one Friday night. Ma let him get away with it. Though, this ti he didnt drag out of the city, but instead to his high-rise condo in Downtown. I followed him to his world, impressed first by the expensive line of cars stashed in the underground parking lot. Further blown away as we reached the lobbymarble flooring, statues of Immortals, fancy artwork in old-world euro-style. I had no fra of reference for the wealth on display. Yet my Uncle acted as if it was nothing, escorting through the lobby to the elevator.
Right to his condo. If you could call it thatthe entire space dwarfed my Mas house. Just walking into the main room took my breath away, windows spanned the length of the entire wall, providing a downright disgustingly beautiful view of New Valentine. The skyline was a splay of neon lights and gorgeous buildings, backdropped by the ocean. Even the Himawari Sects compound was in sighta beautiful Sect compound taking up an entire island off the coast, miles long.
The rest of the condo was just as impressive. Two floors, three bedrooms, and three bathrooms. A kitchen flush with shining cutlery, a dining room with a maple table. Lastly, a room with a wooden floor and soul-hardened walls, sparsely populated with weights and training equipnt arranged around its edges, and a mirror taking up a whole wall. Roos gym.
After the tour, we settled into the gym. Roo tossed hand wraps before securing his own. Well, well, passerotto, youve healed quickly, no?
What can I say, easy to bounce back. I sighed, wrapping the black fabric around my knuckles and wrists. Mirroring what I saw Roo do. Id never used these goddamn things before, and it seed almost silly to waste ti securing them in place, just to save our knuckles so bruising.
And? Now that youve had ti, what have you reflected upon from our lesson? Roo tilted his head and gave a small smirk.
I learned how to throw a better punch. That what ya looking for?
Cultivation is more than throwing punches, Luca. He chided softly, before violating his point by throwing a practice punch into the air. Effortless. His flow of muscle and body was as smooth as a flowing river, cutting through space as if he were in a dance. Your Soul Seed requires just as much care and understanding as fighting. Physical strength feeds it, yes, but that is not all passerotto. Both I and your father learned this the hard way. I hope his son shall not suffer the sa.
I paused, stiffening. My father had a Soul Seed?
It is often passed through blood, no?
Id thought soone else had it, maybe. Grandfather, or, I dont knowsothing. Why wouldnt Ma ntion he was a cultivator?
Roo shrugged before lashing out with a vicious kick, his whole body following the arc of the foot. His center of gravity did not shift an inch, despite the quick and abrupt movent, before returning to a calm standing position. It is not my place to spill your mothers secrets. But rest assured, it is through him you have one as well. Id hoped Alex wouldve been born with one too, but it appears not. Still, we deal with what is present here and now. So I ask again, passerotto, what is your anima?
Gambling, I said, squaring my shoulders as I finished securing the hand wraps. Roo stalked closer, a grin on his face.
Ah, to be so young, and to be full of folly. I wonder if and your father were as annoying when we were your age.
Fuck him. Id had enough talk about my Pa. He was a hole in my life that everyone tip-toed around. The more wed danced around the topic the more bringing it up pissed right the fuck off. And Roos constant comparisonsI wanted to bash his face in to get him to stop talking about it.
So I did, launching myself at him and throwing a wild punch. He flowed away with easejust out of reach of my fist before his leg snapped forward and caught in the stomach. I grabbed my midsection, stumbling away, but he followed through giving no ti to recover, throwing even more precise kicks.
Unlike in the swamp, he was holding back. It still hurt, but there was a distinct difference as he withdrew the bite of the impact. Did that an he wasnt taking seriously? Roo danced away from each of my attempts to hit, before ducking in with a kick or sideswipe I didnt expect. It was annoying. I was unable to predict which angle the man would strike fromhis stances swapping too rapidly and smoothly to tell. He transford into the perfect position to counter or attack, depending on what he needed.
I was unable to match him with pure strength, so I turned to my Soul Seed. Rubbing the sweat off my face and activating Fickle Fate. Blue sparks surged from my palm to my face, a wild grin took my face, and Roo pulled away. I chased, full of confidence with luck now backing .
Yet for each step I took forward, he took two back. That liquid lightning running through my veins withered to nothing. Unspent and unused, since I couldnt close the distance. I stopped in place as the last bit left my system. Roo turned on a di, sohow sensing the shift, and dished out a roundhouse to my cheek, flinging to the floor.
Do you see now, passerotto?
Ya, I see youre a fucking cheat!
Roo shook his head sadly. Soul Abilitieslike a Manifested Soul, have a range. There is always a way to counter a Manifested Soul or Soul Ability, it requires knowledge and tactical thinking. Though, in this case, countering yours is rather straightforward. Avoid when blessed with luck, and you cannot use it. It is why when it backfiresyour instinct is to backtrack and flee, no? Easy to spot. If I can, then your enemies will as well.
I worked my bruised jaw. A headache from the multiple blows. Didnt feel good to have your face bashed in. Whats the solution then?
Two-fold. Experint with range. And contemplate your anima, instead of bold assertions of what it isnt. Stop being so pig-headed and you will find more power, no? Roo tapped the side of his head.
I scowled and refused to acknowledge what he said. Roo ran through several more bouts, forbidding the use of Fickle Fate. He told not to bother with it against him until I understood it better. Eventually, we shifted gears from sparring to actual technique training. I gained a loose understanding of his stances, and the effortless jabs he produced. And quickly understood they were the products of years of training and directed effort.
The way his fighting flowed from one position to another, it was a style of practicality and adaption, rather than the ornate and almost theatrical fighting Id seen from recordings of the Sects. No real beauty to it, aside from how it shifted effortlessly. He stressed the ability to adapt to a fight more than anything else, and I realized with clarity that I was far out of my depth. A bit prickled when Roo laughed at my failed attempts and claid my father would roll over in his grave if he knew I fought like I had two left hands.
At the end of the session, he arranged training three tis a week, when possible, claiming sotis things might co up for him. After I reluctantly agreed, he drove ho and bid to consider my Soul Seed more.
The next week was similarwandering by day, occasionally the nights were broken up by Roo grabbing for training. I ignored the ssages from Kayson, as I fud and boiled and pictured the various ways Id rip Tristan apart when I grew stronger. Hating that little bit of fear of the psycho that still burned in , unable to forget the sight of him ruthlessly plunging that knife into Captain Till, again and again.
But I was forced to ask myself, was Tristan stronger than ? He had the resolve to betray the Brass Kings in the na of advancing his agenda. Ruthless. If he was willing to do whatever it took to get stronger, how could I catch up and get my revenge? Did I have to sink to the sa level of brutality?
I went down a dark road, and the last week I avoided speaking to Ma or Alex. No friends to turn to, so I spent all my ti alone, giving up my daily walks in favor of constant trainingeven without Roo.
Push-ups, jogging, and practicing the stances Id learned. Slow progress but it was productive and made feel just a bit better about my current situation. Though, I easily dismissed exploring my Soul Seed further in favor of physical conditioning. Gambling drove its developnt, no matter what Roo said. If I were to beco an Immortal, I supposed Id be the Immortal of Gambling.
After all, every Immortal was known by the path of their Dao. The Immortal of Wisdom, Immortal of Space, and even the Immortal of Tranquility. So were a bit more obscuresuch as the Immortal Strategist of Warfarebut those that ascended to living gods embodied their Dao.
I doubted they ever struggled to understand their path, after all, was there really much to not understand about tranquility? Even I got the gist of it. They were simple concepts, and wasting ti looking deeper into my own when I knew what it was, would be a mistake. Instead, Id spend that ti throwing myself into the ideal environnt for growth. Anyti I brought that up to Roo, he dismissed as juvenile. Eventually, he forbid from bringing up the topic and told that when I reached my bottleneck that Id see what he ant.
The end of the week ca swiftly, leaving with a final decision. I could attempt to avoid the Seventh Divisionflee from the Brass Kings. Pursue my own goals. Thatd open up to retaliation from the Seventh Division, as Id be deserting them, and itd give Tristan the freedom to go after . I doubted the Seventh Division would try to punish , everyone knew they were incompetent. Part of welcod Tristan to attack, to pit myself against him with the chance of winning or losing. The Seventh Division limited my ability to lash out against that psycho fucker, just as much as it stopped him.
Kayson called at the end of the two weeks, and I stared at the phone. I should just leave them, quit the Brass Kings, and make cash elsewhere. This dumb-ass gang had never done any good. As Roo said, family and duty mattered above all else. Still I answered the phone, confirming that Id et Kayson at their spot. I hung up and grabbed my Brass King jacketa missing patch where my Fourth Division identifier had been. An ugly space on the black and brass jacket. I let out a sigh. Maybe Maybe things would be different this ti.
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