Chapter 2
Under the scorching summer sun, Julian walked the market streets, his eyes sharp, his movements quick.
Entering an alley, Julian advanced calmly, looking toward a square where a small group of young beggars was gathered.
Under Julian's watch, the youths in ragged clothes, with dirty skin and disheveled hair, begged passersby; every so often, coins were thrown. A large youth picked up the group's coins and put them in his pocket.
Julian just watched from a distance.
Damn it, these numbskulls are collecting a lot of coins. They'll attack soon at this rate.
Leaving his thoughts behind, Julian exited the alley and headed back to the hideout.
...
Arriving at the hideout, loud voices were heard. Noisy idiots, Julian thought.
Entering the room, he yelled, "Claude! I'm here!"
Hearing his boss, Claude ran up and reported, "Boss, everything went well. We bought food and three clubs!"
"Okay, keep your voice down." Julian looked to the side, at three brand-new clubs and some provisions.
"Alright, Claude and Lucian, each of you grab a club... And the other one..."
Julian thought about who to give the other club to, but a thin, blonde young woman immediately stepped forward.
"Boss! I want one!" The young woman flinched, afraid she'd said something stupid.
Julian looked at her—a small, skinny girl, nothing remarkable, except for her hair, which was different from the others, a gold-like blonde. Not that he'd ever seen gold.
"Ah, okay, take it." With that, Julian tossed the club to the young woman and turned to Claude and Lucian, "The two of you, inside."
So the three of them went into a room and locked themselves in.
"Listen, I'm only going to say this once."
"Yes, sir," they both said.
"Caleb's group is making a fortune from their begging routines, and it's time to subdue them."
"But, boss, Caleb's group is in cahoots with Adonis's group from Fish Street."
"I fucking know. That's why I talked to the short guy."
Both youths trembled at what Julian said, because the "short guy" he mentioned was an infamous leader of youths from Seamstress Street. They said he had even killed before and worked under a mobster who was a martial artist.
"Boss, isn't it dangerous to ally with the short guy from Seamstress Street?" Claude asked.
"Of course it's dangerous, fuck! But we have no choice. That Caleb is acting very strange—so many coins, and the guards haven't messed with him in ages. Something's wrong, and I just don't want to risk it."
"Alright, boss."
"Very well. We'll meet with the short guy tonight at the Red Sailor bar."
"Fuck yeah, boss, we're with you!"
"Yeah, yeah, we're with you!"
.
"Alright, get ready. Meeting adjourned."
Leaving the room, Julian went up to the blonde young woman. "Hey, what was your name again?"
The young woman flinched and said, "My... my name is C-Carla, boss."
"Hm, alright. Can you hold that thing properly?"
"Of course, boss!"
Saying this, the young woman lifted the club and swung it around as if it were nothing.
Holy shit, Julian thought, surprised. Something is wrong with this girl.
"Okay, that's enough."
Carla stopped making deadly movements with the club and looked up. "So, boss, is that good?"
Julian shook his head and said, "Yeah, approved."
Carla lowered her head and smiled.
Julian walked out of the hideout. "Claude! Lucian! Let's go."
The two ran and caught up to Julian, and the three of them headed to the meeting spot.
....
Broken Hall. A small room. Sounds of punches are heard, a dry thud of fists hitting flesh.
Inside the room, a short, shirtless, sweaty youth is taking numerous punches from a bigger young man. The rhythmic punches land on his chest, and each one makes Jonathan, also known as the short guy, grit his teeth, but he endures.
The punches slow down. The young man looks at Jonathan's expression and nods his head in satisfaction.
Good boy, you will soon reach level one, the young man thinks. Turning to Jonathan, he says,
"Very well, now sit down. I'm going to teach you about the path you will follow."
"Yes, Master!"
Jonathan straightens up and sits on the floor, looking at his master.
"First, I'll describe the world, or rather, what I know about the world."
The young man pulls out a board and grabs a piece of chalk from a table.
"First, we are in Grafall King. Don't ask me for details; I don't know them. Gloomspire City is in the south of the kingdom, under the Ducal Family Gonçalves."
Jonathan nods, attentive. This secretly pleases his master.
"Alright, then. In Gloomspire, Mayor Evans Dwayne governs, under various noble families, but of course, that's none of your business."
"Yes, sir!"
"So, let's talk about your training. You have the talent to be a martial artist. Your body nourishes and handles spiritual energy well. I don't know if you'll be able to become a cultivator, but be glad you're leaving the mortal category."
"Yes, Master. Thank you for the opportunity to learn."
"Of course, of course. In this world, everyone has spiritual energy, but few can use it. Of those who can, the majority are martial artists, who only strengthen their flesh and blood, becoming thousands of times stronger than a common mortal."
Jonathan's eyes shine. His master is his savior and his supporter. Without him, he would still be a wet cat fighting for scraps in the street.
"And well, to be a cultivator, you just have to create a core and open the veins. No secrets."
Greed flashes in Jonathan's eyes. It disappears quickly, but the young man caught it.
"Haha, don't get excited. You'll probably die before you even try to become a cultivator, or you'll die when you try."
Jonathan flinches, but there is still fire in his eyes.
"Very well, that's it."
The young man turns and walks toward the exit.
"Master!!!"
The young man stops and looks at his student. "Speak."
"Master, I did something and I need your approval."
"Well, if you've already done it, I don't think you need it."
"Sorry, Master!"
With that, Jonathan kneels.
"Just speak."
"Yes, sir. So I made an alliance with an acquaintance to dominate the children of the other streets and increase the workforce for our group."
The young man assesses his small apprentice.
"Well, alright. Just don't die. It'll be a hassle to clean up after you. And don't disgrace our Broken Group."
"Yes, sir!"
"Ah, wait, do you need any extra support?"
Jonathan's eyes widen, and he takes a deep breath. "No, sir. They're just small ants who don't know their place."
"Alright. By the way, who did you ally with?"
"Yes, sir. His name is Julian, from Water Box Street."
"Hm, is he useful?"
"Yes, I plan to put him under my leadership."
"Alright. Don't die."
With that, the young man leaves.
Jonathan gets up, all sore, but feels the warmth of the spiritual energy repairing his flesh.
"Hehehe, I'll get you little rats soon."
...
Julian walks down the wide street of the sailors' district. The smell of fish infests the place.
Spotting the bar, he approaches. It is a two-story building. Red stains mark its floor and walls, marks of fights and deaths over many years.
Julian looks at the entrance. It's not very busy today.
So he and his companions move forward. Their torn and dirty clothes attract attention, but no one stops them; they know why they are there.
Julian arrives at a table and sits down. Claude and Lucian sit around him, one on each side. The waitress arrives and puts a bottle on the table with six glasses, and leaves without charging anything.
Julian just watches, and the two youths just observe with longing eyes, but they restrain themselves.
The bar door opens, and three figures are seen—young people in clean, neat clothes. In the center is a young man with dark hair, a square face, and half-closed eyes, aside from his almost minimal height.
Arriving at the table, he looks at Julian, then pulls up a chair and sits down. The other two do the same, leaving the short guy in the middle.
"I see you've improved your life, Jhona."
"Well, I see you're still in the dumps, Juli."
"Tsk, tsk, you're still the same little shit, even in expensive clothes."
"I'd say the same, but I think your clothes would be offended."
With that, the mood becomes heavy. Julian holds the pocketknife firmly and looks closely at this acquaintance. Expensive clothes, clean skin, and he looks well-fed. What the hell did this world do?
"I see envy on your face, Julian."
"Haha, I see someone is prostituting himself around."
"Hahaha."
"Hahaha."
Claude and Lucian laugh, but stop under Jonathan's gaze.
"Let's put this aside. We will focus on our last conversation."
"Sure, I accept your proposal, 50/50."
"Well, we've had a change in the terms."
"How so?"
"We won't split it. Everything will be mine, and you will work under my command."
"Ah, go fuck yourself!" Lucian says, pointing at Jonathan.
"Let me explain."
"Explain what, fuck? Street rules: keep your word."
"Street rules my ass! Listen, you asshole!"
"Just speak, short guy."
A vein pops on Jonathan's forehead.
"Fuck, you bastard! Ah! Okay, I'm with the guys from Broken, learning the path to being a martial artist. So?"
Holy shit, this midget is strong, Julian thought, startled by the short guy's words.
"Well, now, are you going to accept?"
Julian leans back in his chair, thoughtful. It's difficult. The Broken are one of the city's great criminal organizations, full of martial artists. They say there might even be a cultivator supporting them or in their upper ranks.
The effect was what Jonathan expected. Now he just had to confirm.
"Answer me now, yes or no?"
Julian looks at this boy. He's about his age, but he's so cocky.
"Alright, but I want clothes and food, and a place for my guys. And I won't be your flunky."
"Fuck, don't you see this is a chance? Maybe some martial artist will even discover a talent in you." Jonathan didn't expect this reaction, but he accepts it because it fits Julian's personality.
"You're right. But if I become a disciple, I won't have to listen to your orders."
Damn it, he's already read the situation and done the math, Jonathan thought, distressed but accepting, because it would have been disappointing if it hadn't been this way.
"Okay, we'll do it like this: you just keep a low profile and show that I'm in control. I don't care about your guys, got it?"
"Yes. So what are we going to do about our problem with Caleb and Adonis?"
"What are we going to do? We're just going to beat them up, and if we need to kill, we kill."
Fuck, this guy's crazy. Did I make the right choice?
"That's all? We're just going to invade their hideouts and, bah, beat and kill whoever it takes until they kneel?"
"That's it. I like that you understand quickly."
"Holy shit. Alright, when are we going?"
"Now, duh."