Chapter 308 — Eighty

CHAPTER 308

Eighty

The crowd parted for the white tents' people long before Shi Feng saw them.

Hou Ping approached in a fresh Martial Palace robe. He’d formed his Golden Core since their last fight, and he clearly expected that to change everything. Hu Gui hurried beside him, pointing Shi Feng out before they reached the stall.

Behind them walked an elder in grey. He was heavy-set, with a short beard and a tired, unhurried face. The traders went quiet and bowed without being told.

“Elder Shen Tuo!” a trader whispered.

“A Golden Core,” someone else breathed. “From the border post. That boy has kicked an iron plate.”

Hou Ping stopped ten paces away and smiled with every tooth.

“Trash,” Hou Ping said. “I told you I'd be back. I've formed my core, I have a backer, and you've just robbed a Martial Palace stall in front of the whole market.”

“I fined it,” Shi Feng said. “Under article six.”

“Elder Shen is Golden Core!” Hou Ping said, spreading his arms. “Now what?”

“Now it's eighty,” Shi Feng said.

Hou Ping's smile twitched. “Eighty what?”

“Catties of red lantern root,” Shi Feng said. “Forty was the fine for the scale. Threatening a seller's escort in a market is another forty. Zhu Liu, write it.”

Zhu Liu, who was shaking so hard the page rattled, wrote it.

Elder Shen Tuo raised one hand. The market fell silent as though the hand had pressed on it.

“Enough,” Shen Tuo said. His voice was dry and level. “A scale was found wrong. I'll look into it. But I will not be lectured by a boy about a threat that hasn't been made.” He looked at Shi Feng for the first time, and his eyes stayed a beat too long. “You are the one from the cliff.”

“I'm one of the people who was there,” Shi Feng said.

“A junior has been shamed in public,” Shen Tuo said. “Juniors settle that between themselves. If it goes beyond a settlement, I will step in. Understood?”

Shi Feng understood the offer. Shen Tuo would let Hou Ping recover Martial Palace’s pride, but call it a private settlement if the junior lost. The elder had protected his own position before allowing the fight.

“Understood,” Shi Feng said. “Where?”

“Here,” Hou Ping said, and swung.

The first blow came before the word finished. Hou Ping's fist was wrapped in gold qi, and it smashed into the crate where Shi Feng had been standing. Wood burst.

Boom!

Shi Feng used the one movement he’d drilled for twenty-one days. Drifting Ash Step took him left, awkwardly but fast enough. Hou Ping’s second palm missed his shoulder by a hair. The splintered crate fell behind him.

Traders scrambled away. Mei Dong dragged his bundle under a table.

“He moves like a drunk!” someone shouted.

“It's still working!”

Hou Ping spun and drove a heel at Shi Feng's chest. Shi Feng took it on his forearm. The force went through him and his boots skidded a full yard in the dust. His core gave its small, slow pulse, and he tasted blood.

Shi Feng thought, He’s strong, but he spends his qi on every strike. He hasn’t learned restraint since forming the core. That gave Shi Feng an opening, if he could survive getting close enough to use it.

The knife came out. It was a plain steel knife, and against a core-formed fist it was a poor weapon. He didn't try to cut. He ran the Ember Rain Sword at Entry and flicked the blade.

Sparks sprayed from the steel in a fan of red droplets.

“Ember Rain!” Hou Ping yelled, throwing an arm across his face. “Tricks again! You always—”

The palm came through the sparks. Shi Feng didn't dodge it.

Crack!

Something broke on his right side. White pain ran from his ribs to his teeth. But the palm was in his grip now, caught between his arm and his body, and Hou Ping's arm was trapped to the elbow.

“What are you—” Hou Ping said.

Shi Feng flicked the blade a second time, close, right in front of Hou Ping's face. A fan of embers burned into his open eyes. Hou Ping screamed.

Then Shi Feng drove his knee into Hou Ping's ribs, once, and heard the sound he wanted.

The new core flickered. Hou Ping folded in half and dropped to his knees with both hands over his eyes.

The market stood in total silence.

“He took a core-fist,” a girl said hoarsely. “He just took it.”

“That wasn't a sword art!”

“That was a street brawl!”

“It was dirty!”

“…It worked.”

“Enough!” Shen Tuo said.

He had stepped forward, and the pressure of his Golden Core came down over the market like a wet cloth. Shi Feng felt it against his cracked ribs and kept his feet. He stood there, breathing carefully, one hand pressed to his side.

“A fight between juniors,” Shi Feng said, “is settled. Hou Ping has two broken ribs and burned eyes, and I have one broken rib. I'll bill his half.”

Shen Tuo stared at him. A vein moved in his temple.

“Do you know what you are doing?” Shen Tuo asked quietly.

“I'm charging eighty catties of red lantern root,” Shi Feng said. “Plus the medicine. The invoice will come to the border post.”

For three long breaths, Shen Tuo said nothing.

“Take him to the tent,” Shen Tuo ordered two guards. He hadn’t answered Shi Feng’s demand. “Find a healer. Don’t leave him standing in the market.”

They carried Hou Ping away. Hu Gui trailed behind them, clutching the empty stock box.

“Hou Ping had eyes but failed to see Mount Tai,” someone murmured.

Shi Feng walked three steps. Then he sat down on the barrel Lin Langtian had left behind, very slowly, with a hand on his ribs.

“Senior Brother Shi!” Zhu Liu cried, running over with the receipt book. “You're bleeding!”

“One rib,” Shi Feng said. “Write it down.”

Down the road, the second bowl of noodles was going cold.