Chapter 5: A Lesson in Power | Immortality Starts With Karma

You didn't think I'd keep you on a cliffhanger did you? Come now, I'm a reader as well. Keep the comments again, as well as the likes. It's 4:30 AM and frankly, I need sleep. Note that the gulf between the stages is meant to be this large and that it is on purpose. This should also tell you why pissing off an 8th Stage Qi Refiner wasn't the best decision.

Immortality Starts With Karma

Chapter 5: A Lesson in Power

The scarred disciple’s smirk was wide and ugly, a mask of contempt for the easy job he thought lay ahead. He pointed his club at me. “Get him!” he barked at the four trembling disciples behind him.

For a heartbeat, they hesitated, their fear warring with their ingrained obedience to a higher-stage cultivator. Obedience won. With a collective, ragged yell, they surged forward. They were a clumsy, disorganized wave of flailing limbs, armed with nothing but their fists and the foolish belief that five of them were stronger than one of me.

My heart was pumping and adrenaline was coursing through me, I was focused, not in a panic. My biggest weakness was my complete lack of experience in a real fight against multiple opponents. The cramped space of my hut, however, was both a liability and an asset. They could not surround me. They could only come at me from the front. The immediate goal was clear: neutralize the four grunts as quickly as possible. Isolate the leader.

As the first two disciples lunged, their faces contorted with forced aggression, I unleashed my Qi.

It was not a technique, not a flashy martial arts move from a storybook. It was a raw, focused wave of my spiritual pressure, the full weight of a early third-stage cultivator crashing down on them. To me, it was a simple exertion. To them, it must have felt like a physical blow.

Their breath caught in their chests. The momentum of their charge faltered as if they had run into an invisible wall. Their clumsy punches, aimed at my head and chest, lost all their force. This was the gulf between stages—a gap that could not be bridged by mere numbers, not at this low level.

In the split second their attack wavered, I moved. I did not bother with the elegant but impractical stances of the Clear Sky Sword Form. I used simple, brutal efficiency. I pivoted on my heel, my leg snapping out in a low side-kick. My foot, reinforced with a thin layer of Qi, connected solidly with the knee of the disciple on my left. There was a wet, cracking sound, and he went down with a high-pitched scream, clutching his ruined leg.

Simultaneously, I brought my right elbow up and around in a sharp, horizontal strike. It connected with the nose of the second disciple. I felt the cartilage crunch under the impact. He stumbled backward with a choked cry, hands flying to his face as blood gushed between his fingers.

The fight was not graceful. It was not a dance. It was a brutal, two-second demolition.

The remaining two first-stage disciples, who had been right behind their friends, froze dead in their tracks. The raw violence of my counterattack had shattered their nerve completely. They stared at their downed companions, then at me, their eyes wide with abject terror. They had come here expecting to bully a victim.

The scarred leader’s smirk had vanished, replaced by a look of stunned disbelief. He had sent in four dogs to harass a sheep and had watched two of them get their legs broken in an instant. He stared at me, then at the two disciples I had just incapacitated. "Useless!" he snarled at the two who were still standing, his voice a mixture of anger and a new, creeping uncertainty.

The two disciples flinched but were too terrified to move. They were trapped between their fear of him and their new, more immediate fear of me. The leader seemed to realize he was on his own. His face hardened, a flicker of genuine killing intent flashing in his eyes. He was a second-stage cultivator, and he still held the advantage of a weapon.

"I'll break your arms myself, you little bastard!" he roared, gripping his heavy wooden club with both hands. He lunged forward, swinging the club in a wide, horizontal arc. It was a powerful blow, meant to cave in the side of my head. The air whistled as it cut through the small space of my hut.

But it was also slow. Predictable.

To a second-stage disciple, the speed of the attack might have been overwhelming. To my newly advanced senses, I could track its trajectory clearly. I did not try to block it; that would be a foolish contest of brute force. Instead, I dropped into a low crouch.

The club passed harmlessly over my head, so close I could feel the wind it generated. The cramped space of the hut, which had limited my movement, now became his liability. His wide swing carried him off balance, and he had to shorten the arc to avoid smashing his club into the wooden wall behind me.

That moment of recovery was all I needed.

While he was still overextended, I surged up from my crouch, stepping inside his guard. His eyes widened as he realized his mistake. Before he could bring the club back around, I drove my fist forward. I channeled a sharp, focused burst of my Stage 3 Qi to the striking point of my knuckles and aimed for the soft spot just below his sternum.

My fist sank into his solar plexus.

He let out a choked, wet gasp, all the air driven from his lungs in a single, violent rush. His own weaker Qi defenses, which he had probably wrapped around himself for protection, shattered like brittle glass on impact. His grip on the club went slack, and it fell to the dirt floor with a heavy thud. He staggered backward, his face turning a sickly shade of pale green, both hands clutching his stomach as he tried desperately to draw a breath that would not come.

The fight was over. Now, the lesson would begin.

I did not give him a moment to recover. Before he could even think to retreat, I stepped forward and kicked the back of his knee. His leg buckled, and he crashed face-first onto the dirt floor, landing amidst the two terrified first-stage disciples who were frozen against the far wall. The other two were still on the ground, one writhing and clutching his shattered knee, the other moaning, his face a mask of blood. The air was thick with the scent of fear, blood, and kicked-up dust.

I looked at the scene, at the pathetic heap of bodies littering the floor of my tiny hut. A cold, sharp anger, entirely separate from the calm I had maintained during the fight, began to burn in my chest. This was my home. A miserable shack, yes, but it was mine. These people, sent by another person I had only bartered fairly with, had kicked down my door with the intent to beat me, cripple me, and rob me, all because I had refused to be a victim. Because I had dared to stand up for myself in the market.

This world really is fucked.

There was no justice, no fairness. There was only strength and the will to use it. They came here to teach me a lesson about my place. I would teach them a lesson about theirs.

I walked over to the downed leader, who was coughing and sputtering, trying to crawl away. I planted my foot firmly on the small of his back, pinning him to the ground. The thin fabric of his robe did little to hide the trembling of his muscles. I crouched beside him, my face close to his ear. I picked up his right hand, his fingers twitching in the dirt.

A smile, cold and devoid of any warmth, spread across my lips. "Zhao Lun sent you to teach me a lesson," I said, my voice quiet, almost conversational, which only made it more menacing in the tense silence of the hut. "He wants to remind me of my place. So now, I will teach you a lesson. About what happens when you kick down my door."

With a sudden, sharp twist, I snapped his wrist.

A raw, high-pitched scream of pure agony tore from his throat, echoing in the small space. It was a sound that made the other disciples flinch as if they had been struck. He thrashed under my foot, but he could not get away.

"That's for the door," I said, my smile unwavering. I shifted my foot from his back and placed it directly over his groin, not pressing down, but letting the weight and the threat settle. He froze, his pained gasps turning into terrified, hitching breaths.

"This world is all about rules, you see," I continued, leaning in closer until my whisper was the only thing he could hear. "Rule one: you don't mess with someone unless you are absolutely sure you are stronger than them. You broke that rule." I let my Stage 3 Qi flow out, not in a wave, but as a heavy, suffocating blanket that pressed down on him and the others in the hut. It was the spiritual equivalent of a great weight, crushing their will, making it hard to breathe. The leader began to sob openly now, his body shaking uncontrollably. "Rule two: if you fail, you pay the price."

I applied a fraction more pressure with my foot. "Your other arm. Both your legs. And this." He let out a choked whimper. A dark, wet patch began to spread on the front of his trousers, the sharp, acrid smell of urine filling the air. He had soiled himself in pure terror. "I will break and crush them all, slowly. And then, I will go find your master Zhao Lun, and I will ask him if the lesson was taught correctly."

"Please," he blubbered, his voice thick with tears and snot. "No, please, I'm sorry."

"Do you understand the lesson now?" I asked, my voice still a sweet, venomous whisper.

He nodded frantically, his face buried in the dirt. "Yes, yes, I understand! I understand!"

I held the position for a long moment, letting the terror sink in, searing the memory of this moment into his mind and the minds of everyone watching. Then, I slowly removed my foot and stood up, the smile finally fading from my face, replaced by an expression of cold disgust. This was not enjoyable, but it was necessary.

I looked over at the other four disciples. The two who were uninjured were pressed against the wall as if trying to merge with it. "Empty your pockets," I commanded, my voice flat.

They scrambled to obey, fumbling with the small pouches at their waists. Coins spilled onto the floor, rolling in the dirt. A pitiful collection of coppers. I bent down and calmly collected them, one by one. It amounted to twenty-three coins. It was nothing, but the act of taking it was part of the lesson. It was about utter and complete domination.

"Now get out," I said, kicking the dropped club towards them. "Take him, and the others, with you. And tell Zhao Lun that I am a very fast learner. Tell him that if he sends anyone else, I will not stop at a broken wrist and that an Elder would hear of another break in attempt."

The two uninjured disciples moved with desperate haste, grabbing their broken, sobbing leader and their injured companions, dragging them out of the hut and disappearing into the night. The sound of their panicked retreat faded, leaving me alone in the sudden, ringing silence.

A prompt appeared in my vision, stark and unsolicited.

[A severe negative deed of malicious injury and intimidation has been performed.]

[Bad Karma +20 acquired.]

The number was surprisingly high. I stared at it, then at the wreckage of my hut. The broken door, the scuffed floor, the lingering smell of blood and piss. My anger had cooled, replaced by a cold, sober analysis of what I had just done. I had not thought it through. I had acted on instinct and fury, turning a simple beating into a brutal display of dominance. The message would be delivered, of that I had no doubt.

But it would also bring attention. Far more attention than I was ready for. The grunts would not talk to just anyone, but they would certainly babble a terrified, exaggerated account to the one who sent them. Zhao Lun now knew I was not a Stage 2 disciple to be trifled with. He knew I was strong, and more importantly, he knew I was ruthless. This was no longer a matter of petty bullying. I had humiliated him and his underlings. This would get back to Jin Kai.

I ran a hand through my hair, a wave of apprehension washing over me. I had let my anger get the better of my judgment. My only saving grace was a rumor I had overheard at the market, something about Jin Kai going into seclusion. A few senior disciples had been whispering that he was attempting a difficult breakthrough to the 8th Stage of Qi Refining.

If it was true, it was my only hope. It bought me time. A few weeks, maybe a month. A precious, desperate window to consolidate my new power and prepare for the inevitable storm that was coming. I looked at the broken door, a gaping hole into the dark night. I had just announced myself to the wolves. Now I had to become strong enough to fight them.