Chapter 8: A Step Toward Liangjing

A few hours had passed, and Charlie was still in bed.

The Honor Duel had seemed like a manageable problem when he accepted it.

Now he couldn’t stand. He shifted under the blanket and tried again, pushing one foot against the mattress as if his legs might suddenly remember what they were supposed to do. They moved when he told them to. That part still worked. The trouble started when he tried to make them carry him.

Charlie let his head fall back onto the pillow.

How am I supposed to beat Han Yucheng if I can’t even stand on two legs?

The question had been bothering him for most of the afternoon.

Han had a sword, Qi and had probably spent years learning how to use both. Charlie had spent the same afternoon discovering that his own legs had apparently resigned from their positions.

The Dao of Ragebait was one thing Charlie had going for him.

At least, he assumed it was. He still hadn’t figured out what he was actually supposed to do with it. The first time it had manifested, he hadn’t even known what a Dao was. He’d spent a few minutes irritating the manor master, said things that made less and less sense as the man’s temper rose, and somehow the man’s clothes had paid the price.

With Elder Guo, there had been more to it.

Charlie had watched his reaction closely enough to notice that his anger wasn’t staying separate from his Qi. The moment he broke through the trance, everything had changed. His Qi had started moving harder and faster, and the room itself had begun to react.

That was probably the important part. The problem was that Charlie still had no idea how to reproduce it on purpose.

Improvising against an angry old man was one thing. Doing it against Han Yucheng, who would presumably arrive with an actual sword and some understanding of martial arts, was another.

Maybe I can annoy him until he gives up.

Charlie thought about that.

No. He has a sword.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what Yu had said earlier.

Charlie had no idea whether the Qi was something that would disappear on its own, whether he had hours or days to worry about it, or whether he’d already done something stupid by repeatedly trying to stand.

He didn’t even properly understand what Qi was.

Everyone else in this world except him had received the instruction manual.

"System what is Qi?"

[Qi is the fundamental energy cultivated and circulated within the body. It can strengthen the body, operate techniques, and interact with the natural principles of the world]

"So... energy."

[That is an incomplete description.]

"Still sounds like energy."

[Qi is more complex than—]

"Yeah fine. I understand."

Charlie was still trying to work out what Yu had been hiding from him when movement in the corner caught his attention.

The old man had gotten up.

Charlie had completely forgotten he was there.

He shuffled toward the bed, one hand trailing along the wall. When he reached Charlie, he reached inside his robe and pulled out a small bowl.

Charlie frowned.

"Where did you get that?"

The old man said nothing and lifted the spoon.

Charlie leaned away from it.

"No, seriously. Where did that come from?"

The old man brought the bowl closer.

"And what’s in it?"

Charlie couldn’t tell. The bowl was small, and whatever was inside had already been stirred around by the spoon.

Charlie moved toward the other side of the bed.

"I don’t know what that is. I’m not putting it in my mouth."

Charlie reached for the bowl, more interested in figuring out where it had come from than whatever was inside it. The old man’s hand moved before he could take hold of it, and the spoon slipped neatly past Charlie’s fingers and straight into his mouth.

"Mmph—what the fuck?"

Charlie recoiled so hard that his head nearly hit the wall. He spat the contents onto the blanket and wiped his tongue with the back of his hand, making a face as he tried to work out what he’d just tasted. It wasn’t unpleasant, exactly.

"What was that?"

A slap came before he could get an answer.

Charlie’s head turned with it. He sat there for a moment, one hand pressed against his cheek, while the old man calmly retrieved the spoon from the blanket.

The old man dipped the spoon back into the bowl and held it up in front of Charlie’s face.

Charlie tried to spit it out again, but the old man’s fingers pressed against his cheek and forced his mouth shut. He thrashed against the man’s grip, kicking instinctively before remembering that his legs were useless. The old man released him only after Charlie swallowed.

Charlie recoiled against the headboard, coughing.

"What the hell was that?"

He wiped his mouth and glared at the man.

"System!"

Nothing answered.

Charlie pointed at the old man. "You know, I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. That’s gone now."

The old man caught him around the neck with one hand while the other covered his mouth. Charlie grabbed at his wrist, twisting and pulling as the spoon was forced between his lips.

"Mm! Stop!"

His nose was blocked as well, and when he tried to breathe, there was nowhere for the air to go. He struggled harder, finally forced to swallow what remained in his mouth before the old man released him.

Charlie immediately rolled away, coughing into the blanket.

He dragged in a breath and wiped his mouth.

"I am going to beat your ass."

The old man stood beside the bed with the bowl hanging loosely from his hand.

He set the bowl down on the small table beside the bed, then crossed the room to a wooden cupboard near the wall. After opening it, he rummaged through the things inside and pulled out a pair of wooden supports.

Charlie watched him bring them over.

They weren’t the kind of crutches Charlie remembered from home. These were simpler, made from dark wood with curved handles and padded sections near the top where he could rest his arms.

The old man placed them beside the bed.

"What am I supposed to do with those?"

"Try them in an hour."

Charlie glanced down at his legs.

"And if I still can’t walk?"

The old man adjusted one of the supports so it wouldn’t fall over.

"I’ll come back."

Then he picked up the bowl and left the room.

Biggie’s snout appeared from beneath the blanket.

The pig climbed out slowly, shook himself, and waddled over to the wooden supports. He lowered his head and sniffed around them, circling once as though he expected someone to have hidden something inside.

Charlie watched him.

"It’s a pair of sticks, Biggie."

[One-Hour Timer Initiated.]

[59:59]

Charlie stared at the message.

"Oh, so now you’ve decided to show up?"

[59:58]

No response came. The timer remained in front of him, counting down from one hour.

Charlie leaned back against the bed.

"Alrigth...now we wait I guess."