Scheming

Li Tui left the storeroom, the burning pain in his chest searing even deeper.

Pain seeped out from between his bones, as if something were crawling through his meridians. He lowered his head. A dark red bloodstain had spread across his lapel, its edges tinged blue-black.

He couldn't return to the West Courtyard.

He veered aside and slipped into the narrow alley behind the storeroom. At the end stood an abandoned woodshed, its door ajar and thick with dust.

He pushed inside and shut the door behind him.

Broken timber was piled around the woodshed. He tore off a scrap of cloth and wiped his neck. The blood had already dried; the flesh around the wound had turned purplish and hard, cold as iron to the touch.

The blood fiend qi of that demonic cultivator had burrowed into his flesh.

Li Tui tore open his lapel. The lump was still, but dark red patterns had spread across its surface like a dense net, almost covering the entire thing. At its deepest point, a faint scarlet glow flickered with each heartbeat.

He pressed a fingertip against it.

Footsteps sounded outside the door.

Li Tui's whole body tensed. His right hand reached for the short blade at his waist.

"It's me."

The voice was low.

The door opened a crack, and Zhao Hao slipped inside sideways. He had changed into a dark blue martial outfit, a sword at his waist. His gaze swept across the woodshed and settled on the wound on Li Tui's chest.

"That's a nasty wound," he said.

Li Tui didn't answer. He quickly drew his lapel closed.

Zhao Hao shut the door firmly, walked over to the woodpile, and tossed him a small celadon bottle. "This should help ease your injury. Apply it externally to draw out the poison."

Li Tui caught it but didn't use it right away.

"How did you know I was here?"

"I had a bye in my first match today, so I went to the storeroom to get some medicine. I saw you turn in here." Zhao Hao's tone was even. "Was that commotion in the West Corridor your doing?"

Li Tui was silent for a moment, then nodded.

"A demonic cultivator?"

"Yes. He infiltrated the residence."

Zhao Hao's expression darkened.

"He actually dared to sneak in..." he repeated slowly, his gaze falling on the bloodstain. "Looks like he really is hell-bent on getting that thing inside you."

Li Tui gave a bitter smile but didn't respond.

"That 'Blood Bodhi' of yours," Zhao Hao suddenly said, "I'm afraid it's no ordinary evil thing."

Li Tui's heart jolted.

"What makes you say that?"

"Ordinary evil things either suck blood or refine souls." Zhao Hao stared at him. "But when I came close just now, I sensed a kind of 'vitality' instead. It was more like... something not yet awake, breathing."

Li Tui tightened his grip on the bottle.

He knew the Blood Bodhi was extraordinary. That thing in the corridor could devour the demonic cultivator's blood fiend specter whole. What ordinary evil spirit could do that?

But he didn't dare let this secret slip.

"Perhaps it's something left behind by the demonic cultivator," he murmured.

Zhao Hao glanced at him but didn't press further.

"Remember to treat the wound," he said, changing the subject. "More importantly, if that old man dared to infiltrate once, he'll dare to do it again. The further the Small Competition goes, the more chaotic things will get and the heavier the killing intent will grow... For him, this is the perfect hunting ground."

Li Tui nodded. "I was thinking the same thing."

"We need to change our original plan." Zhao Hao went to the window and peered outside through a hole in it. "Making the demonic cultivator clash with the Zhao Family is too risky. One wrong move, and we'll both end up dead."

"What do you have in mind?"

Zhao Hao turned around.

"Turn his plan against him," he said. "Since he insists on getting your treasure, we'll use that greed to our advantage."

Li Tui frowned. "How?"

"The demonic cultivator has struck twice, both times in secluded places, and he's made his moves quickly." Zhao Hao analyzed. "That tells us he's afraid. Afraid of alerting the Zhao Family, afraid of exposing himself. But he won't give up. As the Small Competition goes on, bloodshed will become commonplace, and the occasional death won't be unusual... If he strikes then, it'll be harder to arouse suspicion."

"You think he'll come again?"

"He will. That's certain." Zhao Hao's tone was firm. "And within the next two or three days. The fiercer the fights on the arena, the more eyes will be fixed on them. That'll be the perfect time for him to strike."

Li Tui fell silent.

He understood. Instead of hiding, they could lay a trap.

"You want to use him as a 'whetstone'?"

"And as a 'stone to test the path ahead.'" Zhao Hao said, "Neither of us knows exactly what your Blood Bodhi is. But since it can counter the demonic cultivator's blood fiend techniques, why not... let it face a few more hard tests?"

Li Tui's heart tightened.

"You want to use the demonic cultivator to test it?"

"I want to find out what it can do." Zhao Hao's tone was calm. "That thing has grown on you. If it's a blessing, perhaps it can help me. If it's a curse... you can't escape it now anyway, can you?"

Li Tui lowered his gaze to his chest. The lump pulsed quietly beneath his lapel.

"Have you made arrangements?"

Zhao Hao took a folded sheet of paper from his sleeve and opened it. It showed a rough map of the west side of Zhao Mansion, with several spots circled in red ink.

"These places will be the least guarded and least crowded during the Small Competition." He pointed to the map. "If the demonic cultivator strikes again, he'll choose one of them. We can set things up in advance and arrange a 'chance encounter.'"

"How?"

"I'll have someone pass word to the steward to 'arrange' for you to fetch medicine from the West Side Herb Garden," Zhao Hao said. "You're injured and can't move easily. You're the perfect bait. He'll see you and won't let the opportunity pass."

Li Tui stared at the map, his mind racing.

"What if he goes straight for the kill?"

"That's why we need an escape route." Zhao Hao pointed to one spot on the map. "Here. East of the woodshed, there's a secret passage that leads outside the residence. If anything goes wrong, run that way."

"What if he follows me into the passage?"

"I've set something up in there," Zhao Hao said mildly. "It should hold him off for the time it takes to burn a stick of incense. That'll be enough for you to get out of the residence, and enough to alert the experts inside."

Li Tui stared at the map for a long time.

The plan was dangerous. The demonic cultivator was at the Qi Refining stage; one miscalculation meant death.

But he had no choice.

The demonic cultivator had already set his sights on him. He might escape today, but he wouldn't escape tomorrow. Rather than huddling there waiting to die, he might as well fight for a way to live.

"Fine," he said at last.

Zhao Hao put the map away.

"Rest and treat your wound today. Once tomorrow's matches are over, someone will summon you to the herb garden." He walked to the door, rested a hand on it, and turned half his face toward Li Tui. "Remember, if things go wrong, save your own life first. If you're alive, there's still a way to break this deadlock. If you die and the Blood Bodhi falls into someone else's hands, that won't do me any good."

With that, he pushed the door open and left.

Silence returned to the woodshed.

Li Tui leaned against the woodpile and sat down, then opened the bottle. Inside was pale green medicinal powder with a bitter, clean scent. He poured some out and applied it to the wound on his neck.

The powder felt cool against his skin, and the burning pain eased a little.

Li Tui tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Zhao Hao had never helped him out of kindness. In Zhao Hao's eyes, the anomaly inside him was a variable that could shift the balance of power.

If it could shift things, Zhao Hao was happy to see it; if it couldn't, it was Li Tui who would pay with his life.

Either way, Zhao Hao had nothing to lose.

Li Tui closed his eyes.

From far outside the window, the uproar from the arena, the shouts, and the sharp clash of weapons came in waves.

Like drums pounding out a death knell.

The Small Competition on the second day was in full swing.