Death Cultivator by eden Hudson (knowledgeable books to read .txt) 📗

huge ape of ghost light. The monster snagged Warcry out of the air and slammed him to the dirt. Air whoofed out of the redhead’s lungs, and he coughed up flecks of blood.

The Bailiff sauntered closer and looked down at Warcry, hands still in his pockets.

“Well, Mr. Champion, looks like I might know a thing or two after all.” One of his ghost hands wiggled a finger at the blood oozing out the side of Warcry’s mouth. “You’re gonna want to stop that internal bleeding. You got a long day ahead of you.”

The ghost ape dissolved like smoke, and the little gray figure reappeared next to the Bailiff’s pocket.

Warcry got to his feet, spitting a red wad into the dirt.

“Cheater. You couldn’t beat me without summoning that Martial Devil.”

“Winning’s winning,” the Bailiff said, shrugging.

“I’d kick your arse across the continent one-on-one,” Warcry sneered.

“Hey, genius,” I said, “how about you shut your mouth before we have to train all freaking day and night?”

He glared at me. “Mind your own, grav.”

“This is ‘my own.’ I’m the guy who has to spar with you.”

The Bailiff chuckled. “If I were you, Mr. Champion, I’d listen to my training dummy.”

Fire engulfed Warcry again, an ugly scowl twisting his face.

“Now—” The Bailiff’s ghost hand grabbed Warcry’s shoulder and turned him to face me. “—fight.”

Warcry sprinted my way at roughly the speed of sound. I threw my arms up, reinforcing my bones as a flaming fist screamed toward my face. Without the reinforcement, that probably would’ve snapped my arm in half and knocked my head off. With it, I went sliding backward through the dirt until I bumped into the side of the fight cage.

He was already coming after me when I straightened back up. I fell into a fighting stance, shifting my weight backward so I could nail his good leg with a kick, but he jumped into a Superman punch before he reached me. While he was in the air, I ducked under the blow and hooked a punch into his kidney.

It should’ve been a much harder shot, but my brain hadn’t fully committed to it. I’d just thrown it out there, not expecting to make contact. I filed that away as something to fix with my next punch, then threw up a double-arm block to stop his standard follow-up kick. The metal of Warcry’s prosthetic pinged, and the impact stung all the way down my arms and into my shoulders.

The flames covering his whole body had receded. He was settling down, taking smarter shots. He threw a jab, which I blocked, then suddenly there was a boot in my gut. I doubled over, and a spin kick caught me in the ear.

Then I was on the ground, head spinning, while Warcry sneered down at me. My OSS tattoo burned, healing whatever damage he’d just done.

“You’re bleedin’ giving away every move before you make it.” He spat another pinkish wad off to the side. “Stop twitching the leg you’re gonna kick with. A blind man could see it coming.”

“Okay.” I nodded slowly as what he’d said sank in. “Thanks.”

His mouth twisted in disgust, and he went back to where the fight had started.

I got back up, shook my head to clear some of the ringing, and followed him.

We fought a dozen more times that morning, but that weak kidney shot was the only thing I got off the whole time. Warcry never got back to that blind rage he’d been in when he fought the Bailiff, but he was a different kind of dangerous when he was calm than he was angry. Fighting angry, he probably would’ve killed me by accident. Fighting smart, he went right up to the edge of killing me and backed off just enough that I wouldn’t die.

By the time the Bailiff called it good for the day, I felt like I’d been systematically taken apart and nailed back together.

“See you back here at black sunup,” the Bailiff told Warcry and me both, before he went off to catch up with the other bruisers.

“Your kishotenketsu is trash,” Warcry said.

I shrugged. “You suck at keeping your cool. Everybody’s got room for improvement.”

“What’re you, stuck in Ki? Can’t break through that bottleneck? Or’d you never make it as far as the bottleneck?”

“I’m still keeping up with you,” I said. “Kinda makes you wonder what’ll happen when I start developing my Sho, doesn’t it?”

He slammed a forearm into my chest. “I let you get as close as I want you, grav. Unlike some cheating space trash, I’m a professional. I control my Spirit.” He shoved me. “You don’t want to see me when I go all out.”

“No Bailiff around to stop you,” I said, shoving him back. “If you want to start something, now’s the time. Unless you’re scared a guy stuck in Ki’ll kick your teeth in.”

Just then my Winchester buzzed. I glanced down at the cracked screen.

1 Unread Message, Sender Master Distiller Muta’i

“Luck must like you today,” Warcry sneered.

“Tonight,” I said, heading for the distillery. “Round two, thanks to your big fat mouth.”

“Bring your best, grav. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you get a taste of a real fight.”

As I rounded the corner of the saloon, I made a mental note to read up on Sho as soon as I got a chance. Ki wasn’t going to cut it if I wanted to fight Warcry for real.

Two-a-Days

WHAT MUTA’I WANTED me for was to break rocks. He’d sorted through the Spirit jade chunks and removed the pieces that had come out of the ground cleanly to start grinding them down into Spirit stones. The rest were still attached to the sandstone from the dig site. That was where I came in.

The minotaur showed me to the corner of the back room where he’d set up a sandbox-type square of wood and mesh to crack off the sandstone from the jade. The jade chips, powder, and dirt got sucked down by a dust collection system underneath.

“There’s a second sieve down here,”