Chapter 13: The Second Duel

Noon at the east gate. The crowd was larger this time. Word of the first duel had spread. People wanted to see if the rust-eaten old man would die properly.

Bao waited in the field. He had polished his armor. His sword hung at his side. He looked like a lieutenant should look: confident, armed, and certain of the outcome.

Hao Min walked toward him with the cheap market sword in his left hand. His right hand was at his belt, fingers stained with rust paste. His ribs were wrapped tightly enough to let him breathe but not enough to let him forget them.

"You found a weapon," Bao said.

"I found several."

"That blade will shatter on the first strike."

"Then do not let it strike you."

Bao laughed. "Begin."

He drew Hao Min's old sword and came forward. His footing was perfect. His weight was balanced. Hao Min saw him plant his right foot exactly where the Broken Circle lay hidden under dry grass.

Bao shifted. The boot sole pressed down. The brittle earth beneath it crunched.

Bao felt it. His eyes flickered down for half a breath.

Hao Min moved.

He did not run. He did not leap. He stepped inside Bao's reach with the economy of a man who knew exactly how far a sword could reach. His left hand brought the cheap sword up in a block that was not meant to hold. Bao's blade cut through it.

That was the plan. The broken sword tangled Bao's weapon for one heartbeat.

Hao Min's right hand slapped Bao's sword hand. The rust paste was there. The Tight Circle was already drawn on Hao Min's palm. It touched the bronze guard of Hao Min's old sword.

The guard turned red.

Bao jerked back, but the hilt was crumbling in his grip. He lost his hold. The sword fell.

Hao Min drove his knee into Bao's stomach. Bao doubled over. Hao Min caught his hair and pulled his head up. His other hand held a rusted nail against Bao's throat.

The crowd was silent.

"Yield," Hao Min said.

Bao's face was purple. He had qi. He could probably recover in a moment and throw Hao Min off. But the nail at his throat had drawn blood before. If Hao Min activated the circle, Bao's throat would rust from the inside out.

"Yield," Hao Min said again.

"I yield," Bao whispered.

Hao Min let him go. He stepped back. Bao fell to his knees, gasping, looking at the ruined sword on the ground.

Hao Min picked up the sword. His sword. The blade was still good. Only the guard had rusted. He could repair it. Or he could leave it.

He threw it at Bao's feet.

"Keep it," Hao Min said. "It suits you."

He walked back through the east gate without looking at the crowd. Sao fell in beside him. Zhen waited inside, leaning on his stick.

"You won," Zhen said.

"I survived."

"That is what winning looks like at our age."

They returned to the house. Hao Min sat down and looked at his hands. They were steady now. The Tight Circle had worked at the speed of touch. The Broken Circle had worked as a trap. The Eating Circle waited in his memory, ready if he needed it.

He had three tricks. Three imperfect tools.

"He will come back," Sao said.

"Yes."

"With more men."

"Probably."

"Then why did you let him live?"

Hao Min looked at her. "Because I am not the Iron Bone Sect. I do not erase people who embarrass me."

"That is a reason."

"It is the only reason I have left."

Sao nodded. "Then we should leave Gao Ling before Bao remembers he has pride."

"We will leave. But not yet. First I need to see if there is anyone who can tell me why my circle works."

"The Ink Sect," Zhen said quietly.

Hao Min looked at him.

"They know," Zhen said. "They are the only ones who understand what the Rust Circle is. And they are three days south, in the Nameless Hills."

"Will they teach me?"

"No. The Ink Sect does not recruit. But they may observe you. And their observation might be enough."

Hao Min stood. "Then we go south."

"We?" Sao asked.

"You still owe me for the water."

She laughed. "I carried the water. You owe me."

"Then I will pay you by not breaking your fingers."

"That is not payment."

"It is the best offer you will get from me."

She followed him out the door.

They walked through Gao Ling without speaking. The city seemed different now. People looked at Hao Min differently. Not with pity. Not with fear. With something like curiosity.

Word of the duel had spread. The rust-eaten lieutenant had defeated a Foundation Establishment cultivator. That was not supposed to happen. It was the kind of story that made people question what they knew about power.

At the south gate, Zhen was waiting. He held a small bundle.

"For the road," he said. "Dried meat. Tea. A map that may be accurate."

"You are not coming."

"I am too old for crusades. But I will remember you." Zhen clasped Hao Min's hand. "You were a good student. You reminded me why I stopped being afraid."

"You were a good teacher. You reminded me that I still have hands."

Zhen turned to Sao. "Keep him alive. He is stubborn enough to die just to prove a point."

"I know," Sao said. "I will steal his shoes if he tries."

Zhen laughed. It was a good sound, full and honest.

They parted at the gate. Hao Min did not look back. Looking back was for people who thought they might return.

Sao kept pace beside him.

"You have a disciple now," she said.

"I have a thief."

"Same thing, sometimes."

Hao Min allowed himself a small smile. "Sometimes."