The Immortal's Repose towered over the surrounding buildings, literally: Wu Hao craned his neck upwards as he stood in front of it, counting at least four floors. The doors to the entrance were open, showing a large set of stairs that would spiral upwards and lead to a higher floor. In a side building there were occasional flickers of qi as people moved around at breakneck pace and Wu Hao tensed when he saw it, only for master Shu to chuckle.
"You're sensing something," master Shu said.
"I am," Wu Hao said, eyes alert. "An ambush?"
Master Shu snorted. "Don't be so paranoid, disciple. They're chefs."
"Chefs that know martial arts?" Wu Hao asked, frowning. It made more sense that it was an ambush, surely.
"And why not?" master Shu asked. "Several dishes require qi to be cooked, you know. You won't be able to properly serve up a Five-Flavor Fish without being a third-grade martial artist, at the very least. This kind of thing is normal."
Wu Hao followed the master in, only for master Shu to stop and turn to him again.
"I forgot to say," he explained. "The Gathering of Young Heroes is for the young heroes. We - masters, parents, Dao protectors and so on - we will sit two floors up. Which is to say you'll be on your own."
"Okay," Wu Hao said. "Is that all?"
"That said," master Shu continued, as if he hadn't heard what Wu Hao had said. "There is a tradition of fights occurring, though. Exercise caution in which fights you accept, and try not to get into any fights that can be avoided. Try to differentiate between friendly spars like the one the boy from the Wudang is likely to challenge you to and actual duels."
Wu Hao nodded repeatedly.
"Sure," he said.
Master Shu's beard twitched. "Don't cripple anyone, that's all I'm asking."
"I won't cripple anyone who doesn't deserve it," Wu Hao muttered.
"Ask me first before you cripple anyone," the master snapped. "If they deserve it I'll make sure you get the time you need, but if they don't then you're on your own, boy. Now get going."
"How am I supposed to ask if you're somewhere else?"
Master Shu rubbed his forehead with one hand and didn't answer.
Wu Hao stepped forward before he was shoved again. Master Shu's actual conduct as a master so far had been quite literally taking him places, pushing him to do things, smacking him, and occasionally explaining why. Not for the first time he felt like a child, which was ridiculous. Next the man would take him by the hand so he wouldn't run off.
With a sigh lingering in the air and a quick blurring movement of qi, master Shu vanished, gone... somewhere. No point in trying to track him.
Wu Hao resolved not to keep standing there staring. He was hungry after a day of doing nothing but shopping. If they had forced him to be here - and they hadn't, but he was in a mood to pretend they had - then at least they could feed him.
He made his way into the restaurant proper, where a waiter in elegant robes was waiting for him. He bowed when he saw Wu Hao, and he didn't just offer a shallow nod but instead swept into a full bow, arms sweeping out to the side.
"Young hero Wu," he said, his head still down. "We are honored you grace the Immortal's Repose with your presence. I shall take you to your seat."
"Right," Wu Hao said. "Do so."
The waiter nodded, swept up from his bow in another dramatic movement, and then turned swiftly to walk off into the restaurant proper.
"Follow me, please," he said. Only when Wu Hao had started moving towards him did the waiter also start walking.
Wu Hao followed the waiter up to the first set of stairs.
"The third-grade accommodations are on the first floor," the waiter explained. "Higher above here are the second-grade and the first-grade events. You are free to visit them, if you wish. Likewise, they are free to visit you."
Hmmm. He might. He knew at least someone of the first-grade: sister Wuling from the Emei. It might be slightly interesting to go talk to her. Maybe she knew more of anything that had happened to Mu Jun, the original owner of the crown. She probably knew about the disappearance of the crown itself by now, but if not, he could tell her.
The waiter was still speaking.
"We will also carry messages, if required. Simply speak to anyone of our wait staff if you require anything, and we will fulfill your desire to the best of our ability."
Wu Hao stepped closer to the inward edge of the spiraling stairs. In the middle of the restaurant, on a floor that had been carved out of the ground, plain white stone stood out to his eyes.
"That," he said, pointing. He'd interrupted the waiter but the man didn't seem to mind. "Is that the arena?"
"Yes," the waiter said, looking closer. "It is available should you wish to fight a duel, young hero Wu. Although I don't think that anyone will challenge the champion. We also put on performances there, should no duels be forthcoming."
He chuckled lightly. "But there is usually at least one duel, of course. I've known years that there were five."
"Between who?"
"Oh, too many to mention," the waiter said. "Although I had the good fortune to be present a dozen years ago, when the Reckless Saber Sovereign was first starting out, and I witnessed him fighting against one of the brothers of the Shaolin. That was a very interesting match."
Wu Hao nodded. No point in asking who had won, considering that one participant was a Sovereign and the other was still nameless.
"Here we are," the waiter announced, opening a particular door that had been lavishly decorated. "Young hero Wu, champion of the third-grade tournament!"
A smattering of applause and muttering followed, growing slightly louder when Wu Hao stepped into the room proper. He had arrived early enough that there weren't all that much people yet. Whether it was consequence or coincidence, Wu Hao couldn't have said, but there was no one there that he'd actually fought.
There was a monk from the Shaolin, someone from the Tang in deep conversation with someone from the Zhuge, and there was a boy easily as wide as he was tall, stacked with muscle upon muscle. Someone from the Kongtong Sect, then, who were famously fistfighters. Mo Ritian of the Zhongnan was lazily reading a book, elbows up on the table and clearly not paying attention.
And there was Zunxin of the Jin. Jin Zunxin, maybe? Wu Hao didn't know his last name, or had simply forgotten. He was wearing purple, at least, but he was carrying a small scar that Wu Hao hadn't seen on his face when they'd first met in the future.
"Good evening," Wu Hao said, surveying the room. He received a small chorus of greetings, but no one seemed quite sure how to talk to him and he wasn't sure how to talk to them, either.
"Your seat is there, sir," the waiter said, mistaking his awkwardness for not knowing where to sit. "At the head of the table. The champion's seat."
Wu Hao sat down, feeling all the more awkward. He'd even have taken Ye Yue and his badgering questions right now; that would have been more comfortable than this strained silence.
"We shall serve the food when enough people have arrived, sir," the waiter said. "In the meantime, is there anything else we can offer you?"
"Right," Wu Hao said. He mulled over the question. Something that Wang Bin had said stuck with him, though the man's smiling face evoked nothing but anger and bitter disappointment in him now. "Actually, I've heard about the osmanthus wine that you serve here?"
The twist of the waiter's lips made it clear that Wu Hao would not get the wine he'd asked for.
"I shall see, sir," he said diplomatically. "One moment, please."
He slipped away into the mass of people. Since the seating had been arranged so that people were arranged by order in which they had won, that meant that Wu Hao had no one sitting near him yet except perhaps Mo Ritian, who noisily turned a page in his book and stuck his nose deeper inside. Wu Hao sighed.
So much for glory, he thought. Why had master Shu wanted to come here? Why had he wanted to come here?
The boy from the Kongtong Sect raised himself to his feet and trundled over to Wu Hao. He was maybe fifteen and had a face best described as honest. His hair was wild but short-cropped, his robes had been custom-made so that his wide arms were accommodated, and his qi reminded Wu Hao of the smell of sweat and earthy dirt.
"I am An Xifan," he said, cupping his large hands. "Disciple of the Kongtong Sect. It's a pleasure to meet you, champion."
"Er," Wu Hao said. "Likewise."
"I was very impressed with your victory," An Xifan stated. "The use of two Heaven-grade arts on the same stage - wow! I wish I had half of your talent."
"Thanks," Wu Hao said.
"I hope you don't mind," An Xifan continued. "I do have a few impressions of your fights, however. Do you mind if I ask..."
At last, Wu Hao thought with an internal sigh of relief. Something that he could at least talk about. An Xifan wasn't hard to talk to, actually - he listened intently, didn't ask any stupid questions, and Wu Hao found himself slipping into the conversation as more people arrived. An Xifan wove in other people that he recognized or had fought against, and Wu Hao found himself the center of attention and it all just.... felt pretty natural.
It was nice. He immersed himself in that same feeling until a sudden hush fell over a part of the room.
A woman from the Peng clan - Peng Shaoyu - was sashaying over to Wu Hao's table, and that was a word he didn't use without reason.
She was older than him at sixteen, and she made those three years feel like an incomparable chasm. She was beautiful and knew it, even made use of it. Her clothes had been carefully chosen to expose just enough of the creamy white skin of her thighs.
Her face was beautiful, framed by long hair the color of night that hung down to her shoulders and extended a little further. Her light-grey phoenix eyes drew most of the attention, but she also had a small mole. There was no attempt to mask it with makeup, though, and in fact it worked to accent her beauty, somehow making for a harmonious whole.
She was also a second-grade martial artist and one of the daughters of the Smoke Sovereign, Matriarch Peng herself. Wu Hao had seen her on stage and seen her fight: she used neither sword nor saber nor spear, but instead small knives on her person. He'd considered her a kindred spirit from that moment on and she'd used them to fearsome effect, making it all the way to the third round before she had faced off against a disciple of the Shaolin, against who her charms didn't matter and who had wound up winning the second-grade tournament anyway.
The Peng Clan, Wu Hao was reminded, were famous for two things. One was their charm arts, which entranced the opponents they fought until they found themselves defeated or simply dead; the other was dual cultivation arts.
Despite conversations falling quiet as she passed her steps were unhurried, making no use of movement techniques, unless sashaying counted. It might.
"Young hero Wu," she called out, her eyes lighting up as she neared him. Suddenly all attention was on them, several people whispering or even snickering to themselves. Wu Hao swallowed.
The proper answer, of course, would have been to answer with something like "Yes, Lady Peng?" or maybe say something charming.
"That's me," Wu Hao said, and then wanted to slap himself silly.
She tittered in reply, though. That was good. Laughing with him, not at him. She was just a little bit taller than him. This wasn't something Wu Hao had been aware he'd cared about but now he decided he cared for it quite a lot, actually.
"My lady mother has bid me to bring you an invitation," she said. From somewhere - he had no clue where because her clothing looked very sheer - she produced a slip of paper that she presented to Wu Hao. He barely even read the lettering, eyes glued to the skin she'd accidentally revealed by bending down as she'd handed it to him.
"It's an invitation for a personal visit," Peng Shaoyu spoke.
Wu Hao stared down at the invitation, unsure what to say. A thin channel of qi flew through the air and pushed up against his ears. A voice transmission?
"Accept," master Shu said, amusement clear in his tone. "We can adjust the schedule to be there, at that time. There'll be enough time for a few lessons in what to do, by then."
"Of course I accept," Wu Hao said immediately. He'd have accepted even without the master's command, though. "Thank you for the invitation."
"It's our pleasure," she said with a wide smile. Something in Wu Hao grew very warm at that smile. The force of her attention, of her approval, felt strong, in ways he couldn't articulate. If she smiled at him some more, he'd do anything -
Someone pinched him, hard, and suddenly the comfortable heat that had been surrounding him dimmed just a little bit. Wu Hao didn't yelp with pain but his head did snap around, and that broke the spell as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over Wu Hao's body.
Du Linglong had set herself next to him, appearing from somewhere while he'd been otherwise occupied. She was looking at him with some embarrassment.
"Stop falling for her charm arts," she hissed. "You're making the rest of us look bad."
She, too, had dressed up. She wore formal robes and had pinned her hair up, which frankly made her almost unrecognizable compared to how Wu Hao thought she normally looked. It didn't seem to suit her.
Peng Shaoyu chuckled. "Thank you, in any case, young hero Wu. I hope you don't mind my little trick."
"It's fine," Wu Hao said immediately. Because it was. He cupped his hands. "My master and I will be there."
Peng Shaoyu's smile was lit up the room. "Until then," she said, and cupped her hands back. She sashayed away again, her hips swaying.
"Boys," Du Linglong muttered, disgusted. "I can't believe you beat me."
"I - shut up," Wu Hao hissed back. "You learn some charm arts, then."
"Are you saying I couldn't?" she asked, a challenging tone in her voice.
"No," Wu Hao said, baffled. "Not at all. You definitely could."
"What?" she asked, blushing crimson. Someone chuckled.
He never should have said anything. There were a few more polite chuckles but Du Linglong was staring at him and her qi didn't seem sure of what to express. Women, he thought, feeling despair creep up his spine.
Someone else made their way to the table as he and Du Linglong were trying to work out what to say. He glanced up and his eyes met the thin scales scattered across Bi Shifeng's face. They were set into a scowl.
"Wu Hao," Bi Shifeng said. He didn't cup his hands. "You are the champion, and for that I congratulate you. However! Champion or not, your actions at the tournament were dishonorable. You ought have given us face but you refused to do so. I cannot sit at a banquet with a martial artist who does not respect me."
Oh, thank Heaven, Wu Hao thought. The food still hadn't been delivered but this would provide a decent diversion. He got to his feet.
"I challenge you to a duel," Bi Shifeng said, despite clearly being thrown by the fact that Wu Hao had already gotten up. "Your weapons shall break upon my scales and I will show the world the superiority of the Kunlun Sect's swordplay. You shall -"
Wu Hao had already taken his new saber out of his spatial ring. He swung it once or twice, confirming it was still exquisitely balanced. It was a beautiful saber, sharp as anything Wu Hao had ever touched, and with none of the stupid ornamentation. The craftsman had wrung his hands and explained that this was the best he could have done and that it didn't suit the disciple of a Sovereign, really, but Wu Hao had liked it and master Shu had bought it for him without much of a second thought.
The sparks of potential began to run up and down his arms. He itched to cut something. With two quick steps he was at the edge of the room, and after another step he swung his body over the railing. He barely even felt the fall down to the arena that had been carved into the middle, though he did feel the landing, rolling to disperse the impact and still thumping into the ground with a heavy thud that reverberated up his spine.
"Come on," he said, rolling up the sleeves of his robes out of pure habit. "Let's go, motherfucker."
A ripple of shocked murmurs spread through the people leaning over the railings to spectate, mostly for his language. Somehow, somewhere, Wu Hao knew, master Shu had just sighed.