The pit that Que pointed to already had fuel in it. Sweet-smelling wood with a thin layer of blue between its bark and meat rested in a small, inviting pyre, only someone like the Fifth Elder could buy such a luxury to burn. If others could, he had never seen it. The fire lit quickly, and the logs burned hot and slow. Blue shimmered at the edges of the orange and yellow flame.

  There, he meditated while the Frost Feline Demonic Beast meat roasted. The meat stayed cold and never rotted, even if it was left outside the Spirit-Holding bag, which had its own preservation magic that was beyond him. That made it roast slower than boar or beef. He wasn’t totally against eating it raw anyway.

  But now all that talk of Beast Force made him paranoid, not that he already wasn’t. It was worse than normal, like something was inside. Usually, he wondered if the First Elder or someone else was somewhere in the skies, up where even the clouds couldn’t reach, staring at the back of his head like it was a juicy plum.

  Even though it was quiet now, with just the crackle of fire around him, he hesitated to fall back into meditation. He pushed himself in for brief moments. Then woke, repeating it back and forth while he flipped the meat. He would eat, meditate, then eat again as the fat dripped and stringy muscle charred.

  The meat was more explosive than before. His taste was sharper. Some of that was from the training in seclusion, too. But it wasn’t just the taste. As the meat touched his stomach, his body temperature jumped, and the flesh was boiled away, rapidly dissolved. Liquid Qi pushed into his veins. He could feel it all under his skin, flowing in the riverways of his blood.

  “Is this the result of the Blood Fruit bath?” His words slipped from his mouth. He was quick to cover his mouth to keep any more words from slipping out. It had to be more than the fruit. If the fruit was just a small part of what caused the energy that rushed through him right now, he was glad Senior Brother Guan gave him more.

  He pushed the logs together and stamped out the fire, cleaned up, and turned. The sunrise was beautiful, but he could admire the murals and carvings inside just as well.

  The number of fruits the Senior Brother had given him had more than doubled before. It might’ve been the last of what Guan had. No. No, that wasn’t likely, considering the way he gave them away, but it couldn’t be that the Senior Brother had that many more.

  After all, his fingers counted eight as he held them to his chest.

  Hao still had everything he needed, and he was standing before the creaky door of the Bathhouse before he realized. The murals passed by, and he had hardly noticed. He pushed the door open and entered, washed out the same basin he had used before, and refilled it with the hottest water in the room.

  He took a relaxing bath beforehand. Old blood and dirt peel from his scalp and filled his fingernails black. Each scrub brought up more, but he decided it was good enough, then he thought of the Second Elder and did another round. He soaked and hung his robe, too. It was the only chance he would get. The stitched-up garb was hardly recognizable. Blood had made it black, stains a weekly wash would scrub out.

  Once that was done, he held the Fruit in his hand. All the excitement that brought him here in a hurry vanished. He moved quickly anyway. A little more water, the hottest he could find. Filling, filling, filling until a steam cloud formed and floated above the basin. He kicked out the extra water, not wanting any to spill over the edge once he split the fruit.

  The little spike tool was right there, but he didn’t use it for much more than scraping his skin and turning the fruit to pulp.

  This time, he would absorb everything the fruit could offer. Everything. Down to the last drop of use. If he couldn’t do it to a point of perfection, what use was the praise he got?

  He held two fruits under the water and squeezed them. Both burst into pulpy clouds and red tendrils chasing after his flesh.

  The pain was just something to ignore. Another lap around the pavilion, nothing more. He became breathless, but went on. Thankfully, his body already knew what to do without thought, or perhaps that was a curse, as he used one of the fruits like a bar of soap.

  A deep breath, and he sank under the water, eight crushed fruits floating around him as bits of red rind bumped his skin and face, and wrapped his hair and fingers. He sank. Sank into that all too familiar void, but there were no colors or divine beasts, just red, blood red, crimson or scarlet, and nothing in between, not even that sunset orange he abandoned to come here.

  Red and roaring and throbbing and bloody. Blood Qi, if he could guess from all the things that Senior Brother Guan tried to force into his head in such a short time. The same stuff that the drinking stone turned into the Pure World Energy. Full of vitality, ready to decay into Death Qi, but not here; it was stable inside here. Life and Lust and anger—moments of joy between the hunger for food and something more.

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  Hao had to go up for breaths. That disrupted everything more than the pain, but he only needed to come up twice, maybe three times. When he went up the fourth time, something was off.

  The air was cold on his skin, but it didn’t hurt. He must’ve been under longer than he thought. Steam had cleared, and… the water was clear. Not glass clear. But he could see his feet and more under the pool. It seemed to have gone bone deep this time. His muscles and joints were slow to move.

  At least I don’t have to roll out of the basin this time. He told himself, stretching before he attempted to jump over the edge. Nearly slipping and falling on the spiked tool. He drained the water and cleaned up, then found himself distracted.

  A grin grew on his face as he threw naked punches in the bathhouse with its peeling blue paint.

  Is this what it’s like to receive instructions from someone who knows what they’re doing? The practice continued even when the grin faded. Almost everyone else he would face in the Peak Ascension would have this kind of instruction and treatment year-round. I had one day.

  His palm strikes and leg sweeps were all brought to an end when he clutched the Spirit-Holding bag to his chest. All his advantages were inside the bag. The bag itself was special in a few ways, as special and as secret as the things inside. It was my only reward other than mockery and a roof, he reminded himself.

  He bound the bag to his chest. The number of ropes and straps that held it had grown in number and strength. From hemp to Demonic Beast leather. Perhaps now he could tear even something as durable as Green-Horned bull hide. He was tempted to try, but his robe was already on; he only had his front robe belt to tie.

  Just outside the room, he heard footsteps; they were fast and light. Everyone on the peak was lightfooted. Still, how impatiently the Senior Brother was to open the door surprised him. He must've taken longer than he thought.

  When he saw a small face where he expected a barrel chest, he was shocked.

  “Senior Sister Zu?” Hao said, words popping from his mouth.

  She was in the middle of sliding her hand up her right sleeve, looking down that way, exposing a small valley between two hills hidden by blue sashes. Her robes were so clean they looked like rivers.

  That landscape was quick to turn deadly. Her head snapped up as if her slender neck was a viper that had seen food for the first time in its life.

  She didn’t scream or shout. Famed for her beauty and talent, admired by men and women alike for good reason, she stared at him. A scowl that was worse than a mad demon's smirk. Not the least bit pleasing to the eye.

  Senior Sister got the sleeve off, her arm popping out near her neck. The movement was smooth. A perfect palm strike, not graceful, but as good as Hao’s own, if not a little better in speed and speed alone.

  He lifted his hands to catch it. No chance. His eyes followed it, but his body was far too slow. He got a sense of the energy, how it was flowing. Thick, heavy, True Qi. It was the first time he felt it so clearly.

  An energy that surpassed the worldly energy he knew. Purer than pure, but unmistakable, innate, belonging only to the woman before him. It was what allowed her to fly—Control objects from a distance.

  Hao accepted his fate and engraved this lesson onto his heart.

  His sternum pressed in. Air left him like someone was out in the hall pulling it by a rope. He thanked and cursed the floor. It was slippery, so a lot of the momentum sent him backwards, but backwards was a pool of hot water and a wall.

  He leaned his back and let his legs slide out from under him. His ass slid until there was a bang. The taste and smell of iron filled his mouth and nose. He lifted his head as quickly as he could.

  The Senior Sister had her hand up again.

  Hao raised both his hands in response, waving them for her to wait. “I don’t think I’ve ever left this peak without an injury…” he wheezed, remembering it was always her master, bald Daoist Silver Steps. It was Senior Sister Zu herself this time.

  He gulped down air when her hand lowered. With as much dignity as he could muster, he stood, finished tying his robe belt, and brushed his hair out of his face.

  “Senior Sister…” He said, passing by her, hiding his indignation. Until he was outside in the hall, and the door handle was held firm in his hand. When he turned to look at her, she was the one who looked angry.

  Hao smirked, “You are welcome to try knocking next time,” his voice broke as he swallowed air.

  Senior Sister Zu looked stunned, but Hao pulled the door closed as soon as he saw her pale pink lips move.

  He hurried outside. He might’ve played himself up a bit, and felt stone, but against her. That one strike told him all he needed to know. Not that he needed a reminder that an 8th Rank Reclamation had little chance against a Cloud Forming Cultivator in the upper layers.

  Outside, Hao waited for Senior Brother Que. He didn’t have to wait long.

  Senior Brother Que came wandering over from the firepit where Hao cooked the meat and ate. “Junior Brother.” He looked Hao up and down with squinted eyes.

  “You’re ready to go to the Second Peak?” Que said, not really asking.

  Hao nodded, “Yes, another peak… It will be my first time on another peak besides this one.”

  Que strode forward, grabbing Hao by the sleeve.

  “Senior Brother, does anyone else use the bathing room?” Hao asked.

  Que lifted into the air, half the giant sun taking up the sky, blinding them as they floated down from the peak. “No. Most people just go to the hot springs or the rivers that are on the outskirts of the peak. Why?”

  “No, no. Nothing, just a slip.” Hao said, spotting the looming shadow of a cyclopean palace on the peak that Que flew towards.