The Ultimate Grinder

At night, at the hour of the Rat.

The sky held not a wisp of cloud, yet no stars could be seen.

The heavens above all of Linjiang County were shrouded in a suffocating dark red, as though someone had poured a basin of blood used to wash rotting meat across the sky.

A crimson blood moon, its edges seeming to fester, hung alone overhead.

That was simply how this world was.

Li Xiang had learned in his first month after crossing over that this world had no white moonlight on the fifteenth.

Every fifteenth, yin waxed and yang waned, and the sky turned blood-red. It was the Crimson Night.

On this night, demons stirred and evil spirits multiplied. Respectable households had pasted up door-god prints before sunset and shut their doors and windows tight. Even the night watchmen struck their gongs a little faster than usual, afraid to spend one extra second outside.

Yet in the rear courtyard training ground of the Shocking Heron Martial Hall, a figure stood bathed in that eerie red light.

"Breathe out... breathe in..."

Li Xiang was bare-chested, his normally fair skin tinted as though with a coat of red oil beneath the blood moon.

He was practicing his punches.

Taizu Long Fist, eighteenth form: Hidden Dragon, Do Not Use.

It was a stance for gathering strength.

He appeared motionless, but every tendon in his body was stretched taut. He was like a bow drawn to its limit: the slightest touch from outside would send the power stored within him surging out like floodwaters through a broken dam.

Li Xiang stared into the empty space ahead, recalling his recent sparring sessions with Ye Qingyao.

Knife-Clasping Hand-Wrestling... It was close-quarters fighting taken to the extreme. More than sharp eyes, it demanded instinctive reactions from the body.

The spine had to stay supple, the tendons had to spring. He had to unleash thunder within the space of an inch.

"Hah!"

With a low shout, Li Xiang's taut body snapped into motion.

Without warning, his spine gave a jolt and his right fist shot out like a cannonball. It stopped strangely in midair, then opened into a palm. His wrist turned, and his hand darted sideways toward a wooden post like a snake flicking out its tongue.

Crack!

A sharp report rang out.

His palm had left a clear handprint on the Pagoda Tree Post, which was as thick as the mouth of a bowl.

A scalding current spread swiftly down his spine and through every limb and bone, sweeping away the ache and fatigue deep in his muscles.

[Completed one practice run. Boxer experience +1]

[Level: Lv2 (5/20)]

The pale white characters that appeared in his mind let Li Xiang's taut nerves relax a little.

He dropped his stance and breathed out a long stream of white vapor.

It held together in the cold night air, shooting more than three feet forward like an arrow.

"Five experience points in one day. I wish I could train with Ye Qingyao every day."

Li Xiang took the cloth towel draped nearby and wiped the sweat from his face.

Ye Qingyao's training had exhausted him today.

He was tired, but he had gained a lot.

"Clap, clap-clap!"

Just then, light applause came from behind him.

Every muscle in Li Xiang's body tightened. He whipped around and assumed a defensive stance.

Only when he saw who it was did he slowly exhale and lower his fists.

"Trying to scare me to death, sneaking up on me in the middle of the night?"

The man beneath the moon gate was Qin Zhong.

The big fellow leaned against the doorframe, staring at Li Xiang as though he had seen a ghost.

"I wasn't trying to scare you. But you... this is a bit too... you know?"

Qin Zhong scratched his head, apparently rummaging through his meager store of words. At last, he managed, "You're grinding way too hard. Senior Sister put you through hell all day, and you're still training tonight? Is that body of yours made of iron?"

He was genuinely impressed.

He had thought hauling a cart with sandbags strapped to his legs every day to improve his legwork was already pushing himself hard enough.

He had never expected the newcomer to be even more relentless. It was already the hour of the Rat; everyone else had long since gone to meet the Duke of Zhou in their dreams, but this fellow was still battling a wooden post.

"Can't be helped."

Li Xiang smiled, walked to the water vat, scooped up a ladle of cold water, and poured it over his head. He shook his head with a satisfied sigh.

"The fight's in a few days. It's a life-or-death affair. I don't want to lose, and I definitely don't want to die."

Water ran down his muscular chest. Li Xiang took the dry clothes Qin Zhong handed him and draped them over his shoulders. Only then did he notice what Qin Zhong was wearing.

Usually, Qin Zhong wore nothing but baggy shorts around the martial hall, bare-chested and dressed for comfort.

Tonight, though, he was dressed from head to toe.

He wore a washed-out gray fighting outfit, its sleeves and trouser cuffs bound tightly with black cloth strips. Thick-soled boots were on his feet, and a peachwood amulet of uncertain origin hung at his waist.

He looked less like someone who had gotten up in the night and more like someone setting out on a journey.

Li Xiang looked him up and down, raised an eyebrow, and teased, "What's this? Off to meet some girl in secret at this hour? You're all dressed for it."

"Oh, quit making fun of me."

Qin Zhong's face reddened. He waved a hand. "This is honest work. What girl would fancy a cart-pulling laborer like me?"

As he spoke, he tightened the cloth belt at his waist, unable to hide the excitement in his face.

"A distinguished customer booked me in advance."

"A distinguished customer?" Li Xiang was surprised.

In this age, nighttime belonged to demons, ghosts, and gangs.

Respectable people shut themselves indoors as soon as darkness fell. Who would choose to go out at the hour of the Rat, when yin was at its strongest?

"Mm. A regular customer."

Qin Zhong went to the corner and wheeled out the rickshaw he treasured so much. As he checked its tires, he said:

"This customer has some peculiar habits. On the fifteenth of every month, the Crimson Night, he has to hire a cart at this exact hour. And he asks for me by name. Says my birth chart is strong, my fate weighs heavy, and I've got enough yang energy to keep things under control. If he used another driver, the cart would overturn halfway there for sure."

Li Xiang's heart stirred.

A heavy fate. Someone who could keep things under control.

Qin Zhong was tough enough that even the Heavenly Baleful Lone Star couldn't kill him.

Whoever had asked for him by name clearly knew a thing or two.

"This customer must pay well," Li Xiang asked, leaning against a stone lock weight as though the question were casual.

"Does he ever!"

At the mention of money, Qin Zhong's eyes lit up. He held out a hand and flexed his fingers.

"This much. Five silver dollars!"

"One trip there and back, less than four hours altogether. Five silver dollars, paid on the spot. Never a late payment!"

Qin Zhong chuckled and patted his solid chest. "If he didn't pay so much, I wouldn't stay up half the night for this job. It's not exactly safe out there after dark, what with the night patrols and the stray dogs."

Five silver dollars.

To an ordinary person in this age, that was a lifetime's earnings.

This was no cart fare. It was money paid for risking his life.

Li Xiang's brow furrowed deeper. His Embalmer's instincts told him there was more to this.

"Senior Brother Qin, you've been taking this job for a while now, haven't you?"

"Over half a year, I think." Qin Zhong considered it. "Once a month, like clockwork. Why? You think something's wrong?"

Looking at Qin Zhong's honest face and his delight in the money, Li Xiang shook his head.

"No. Rich people just have so many strange habits. Still, keep your wits about you out there tonight. Just carry your passenger. Don't ask questions, and don't look at anything you shouldn't."

"Don't worry. In our line of work, keeping your mouth shut is the first rule."

Qin Zhong did not take Li Xiang's warning too seriously. After all, nothing had gone wrong in the past six months, and the customer always paid promptly.

"All right, enough chatting. It's almost time. That gentleman will dock my pay if I'm late."

Qin Zhong gripped the cart shafts, drew a deep breath, and pushed off.

"I'm off!"

The rickshaw wheels rolled over the flagstones with a soft rumble and soon vanished through the gate into the thick night.

Li Xiang stood where he was, watching the direction Qin Zhong had gone for a long time.

A dark cloud covered half the full moon, dimming its light.

"Plenty of yang energy..."

Li Xiang turned that phrase from Qin Zhong's story over in his mind.

A passenger who needed a driver with plenty of yang energy, and at the hour of the Rat, when yin and yang changed places.

That sounded less like carrying a living passenger and more like... borrowing yang to clear a path.

Li Xiang shook his head and thought no more of it.

In this world, who wasn't licking blood from a knife's edge for money?

Instead of going back inside to sleep, Li Xiang sat at the stone table in the courtyard, picked up the brush beside it, and began grinding Painter experience.

"There aren't enough hours in the day. If only I had forty-eight!"

[Completed one quick sketch. Painter experience +1]

Li Xiang kept drawing.

Time passed.

From far away came the night watchman's gong, sounding four times.

It was the fourth watch.

This was the darkest hour before dawn. The blood moon had drifted west, its glow growing darker and more oppressive.

Li Xiang, who had been absorbed in his drawing, stopped his brush. His ears twitched.

"Rumble..."

The dull sound of wheels broke the silence.

It was the sound of a rickshaw's solid tires rolling over the flagstones, much heavier than usual, as though the cart held a dead pig.

"He's back."

Li Xiang put away his brush and ink and went to the courtyard gate.

"Creak—"

The side gate swung open.

Qin Zhong crept in, pulling his rickshaw.

In the dim lantern light beneath the corridor, Li Xiang saw that Qin Zhong looked rather bedraggled.

The gray outfit that had been spotless when he left was now speckled with yellow mud around the trouser legs, and his shoes were caked in a thick layer of it.

He was drenched in sweat, as though he had just been pulled from the water. His face was pale, and his chest heaved. The trip had plainly taken a lot out of him.

Yet his expression was excited.

Seeing Li Xiang still in the courtyard, Qin Zhong paused. He patted the bulging pouch at his waist, making the silver dollars inside clink together.

"Heh, still grinding away?"