Path of the Berserker

Citizenship was a must, but beyond that you needed a special license available only to artisans or crafters. Even when clients nabbed monster cores with me out in the wild, they would then have to hire an artisan to auction it for them for a small fee. It was a way to ensure the artisan and crafting sects took a healthy role in the economy. Not only did they control the converting of exotic ingredients and monster cores into elixirs, pills, and even weapons, but they controlled the market for them as well.

All this Master Edrik explained to me as we traversed the side streets, travelling from the artisan district to an area quite close to the base of the imperial city—the real name for the floating pagoda in the sky.

“If you think the world of cultivators is cutthroat you haven’t seen anything yet,” Master Edrik said with a chuckle as we entered an area large enough to span two football fields. The place looked like pictures I remembered seeing of the stock market from way back in the 1980s. People were thronged wall to wall, yelling and screaming in a din of complete chaos. There had to be at least twenty separate auction pits active, where an auctioneer took center stage on a raised dais, spewing a hundred words a minute as goods were placed on display. The buyers surrounding them whistled and called out their bids in rapid succession, so fast I couldn’t keep up with any of it.

“Cultivators at least have to back their words with strength,” Edrik continued to explain as we weaved through the crowd. “Here cunning is valued above both honor and strength. There is a saying here. If you aren’t cheating, you aren’t winning.”

We approached a small booth, and after showing our ID cards to the Imperial Guard on duty, we both obtained a placard with a number on it. I ended up getting 423 and Master Edrik 424.

“What are these for?” I asked once we had left.

“For bidding, you will see.”

It was all overwhelming and I was appreciative to have Master Edrik as my guide as we dove further into the auction square. I couldn’t sense Qi, but I could tell that not many here were martial artists. Some cultivators perhaps, but the lazy kind judging by how out of shape most people looked. These were the people in between the mortals and the cultivators—the merchants and artisan crafters who controlled the flow of resources throughout the city. People who gathered Qi not by meditation and cultivation but by pills and other cheats since they could easily afford them.

They reminded me of the businessmen types from the old world.

‘Fat cats’ I think my dad used to call them.

Besides the people, the goods being sold themselves were also stare worthy.

From weapons and artifacts to wagons of grain and even land, everything went through the hectic process of being bid upon and sold in rapid succession. The auctioneers themselves were imperial officials it looked like, decked out in beige and off-white robes. The presence of Imperial Guards and enforcers was thick as well, but everyone else wore multicolored robes from various sects that I had no idea even existed. The culinary sect, the smithing sect, the weaving sect—and all of them with subsects denoting a certain specialization or craft.

Once or twice, I spotted a high-tier cultivator strolling leisurely through the chaos while their manservants hauled their recently acquired goods behind them. I probably stood out as well, looking like I did, but I carried no elegance or charm in my gait. Attention came to me instead in the form of crude flattery and slaps on the back.

“Hey! It’s the Iron Bull!” someone shouted and all eyes within the area suddenly turned to me. I endured a mini mob of rabid fans for a few minutes but then quickly engaged [Mask of the Despised] once Edrik and I pulled away.

“You being so well known won’t be helpful here,” Edrik said. “Not with what we’re about to do.”

“Why?” I asked, raising a brow. “What are we about to do?”

Edrik grinned. “Cheat the system a little.”

He then pulled me to the side to explain.

“If you want the best price for those cores, you’ll need to drive the price up a little,” he said. “I’ll register them for you and when the bidding starts you bid as well.”

“What? You want me to bid for my own items?”

“Yes, but don’t go crazy. The last thing you want to do is actually win the bid. And take this...” He then gave me his hat. “If anyone realizes you’re the Iron Bull they’ll probably stop bidding against you just on principle. And you don’t want that.”

“Damn, okay,” I said, putting on the hat. “I’ll try to be discreet.”

“We’ll use pit thirteen to offload these,” Edrik said, taking the cores from me. “Go separate ways. People can’t know we’re working together. Remember to wait for the first bid to go out before you start driving it up.”

“Got it,” I said with a nod and then Edrik disappeared into the crowd.

My pulse sped as I went in the opposite direction, nerves building as I channeled even more Frenzy into [Mask of the Despised]. It was a technique I didn’t rely upon very often, but now everything could be depending on it.

I arrived at pit thirteen to catch the tail end of an auction for a small gold chest that was purported to hold mystic properties. It was probably radiating Qi, judging by how many people were bidding upon it.

“120 spirit stones!” someone called out.

“130!”

“135!”

The auctioneer kept up with the bids, repeating them as he pointed out each bidder in the crowd.

“135 spirits stone by number 247, do I hear more? 140? Yes, 140 for number 132!”

The auctioneer finally banged his gavel at 175 spirit stones and closed the deal.

“Sold to bidder number 132! Next auction!”

There was one more auction for some special herbs that went fairly quickly to only one bidder for only 5 spirit stones and then the two monster cores were brought out to be put on display on a small table next to the Auctioneer.

“A two-for-one deal,” the auctioneer shouted in a singsong tone that reminded me of the announcers in the ring. “Two prime cores. One only slightly disfigured. Both wood aspect. One is extremely large. We will start the bidding at 50 spirit stones for the pair.”

50? Damn that was it?

“Do I hear 50?” the auctioneer repeated again.

I glanced about fearful no one would even bid and then finally someone a few feet away raised their placard.

“Thank you,” the auctioneer said. “50 spirit stones to bidder number 87, do I hear more?”

A bid at least. But only 50?

Nervous seconds went by as I waited for someone else to bid.

“50 spirit stones going once!”

Ah hell.

“60!” I shouted.

“60 to number 424! Do I hear 70?”

The same bidder, a short man with a shaved head, raised his placard again, giving me a glare.

“Thank you! 70 to number 87 again! Do I hear 80?”

Finally, someone else raised their placard sending the bid upwards.

“80 spirit stones to number 312! Do I hear more?”

“90!” I shouted and then clenched my butt cheeks when all I heard was crickets.

“Come on, folks, these are prized cores,” the auctioneer said as he surveyed the crowd, but no one raised their placard. “90 going once!”

Ah crap!

I glanced over at number 87 again. He looked to be a cultivator of sorts, and from within him I could sense a subtle hint of anger. My mind went a hundred miles a minute and I threw caution to the wind for a last chance at saving it all. I leered at the man with a shit-eating grin and prayed the action would have the outcome I hoped it would. The smoldering anger within him quickly flared and I leaned over to whisper to him to seal the deal.

“Poor people like you should not come to auctions,” I said.

His face contorted with a scowl and his spirit filled with rage.

“100!” he shouted, raising his placard in defiance.

“100!” the auctioneer echoed.

Inwardly I breathed a sigh of relief, but I masked it with the same leer of [Indifference].

“Beat that if you can,” the man said smugly. “We will see who is truly poor or not. Filthy Terran.”

My Flame flared at the insult.

“100 going twice…!”

Within me, the Demon wrestled against the Struggler.

I should quit. I had already won.

But screw this guy. Maybe I could push him even further.

Just to spite his smug ass.

I glanced across the pit and spotted Master Edrik, desperately making a not so subtle ‘don’t do it’ gesture by shaking his head. I glanced back at the cultivator who began to laugh.

“Thought so,” he said. “Terran piece of shit. How’d they even let you in here?”

Anger erupted like a volcano.

“101!” I shouted and my heartbeat sped like a jackhammer.

Damn it! I just couldn’t contain myself, the Struggler losing control, but thankfully I hadn’t gone too crazy with my bid. Still, I had fallen for my own damn trap.

Chun, you dumbass, I chastised myself.

Anger rose within the man as he threw down his placard in a fit. “You filthy bastard!”

I was in real trouble now.

But I kept my cool with a façade of [Indifference].

Think…think!!

“Just as I thought,” I said with a laugh. “You’d already reached your limit. You didn’t have even a single spirit stone left to beat me. Imagine losing a bid to a Terran.”

I prayed for the predictive nature of the cultivator to kick in.

Competitive and vengeful to the core.

To my relief he quickly snatched his placard from the ground.

“120!” he shouted, while glaring at me with rage. “Let’s see you beat that?”

I gave an inward fist pump and then humbly bowed. “This One was wrong about you, honored competitor. This One concedes to your superior wealth.”

“120 going once, going twice…”

The man’s face contorted with dismay as he perhaps realized what I had just done to him.

“Sold!”

* * *

I met back up with Master Edrik who greeted me with a hushed whisper.

“You pushed that one quite close,” he said. “I wouldn’t value these much over 100 spirit stones. I nearly pissed myself when you bid 101.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, me too. It all worked out though.”

“Luckily.”

But I knew luck had nothing to do with it, and evidence of that was the baldheaded cultivator who was still following me around like he wanted a damn rematch. I pretended to ignore him as I spoke with Master Edrik discreetly.

“So what now?”

“More luck,” he said. “There is some Corrupted Steel that’s arrived from the interior. But we’d better get in line. The supply ship only comes on the first week of the month. You’d be waiting another month if you miss out today.”

“Damn,” I said. “How much do you think it will cost? Will 120 spirit stones be enough?”

“Depends on who else is bidding, but for the amount you’d need perhaps half that will be enough.”

Holy crap! I was going to make a profit.

“Can you get a bit extra then?” I said. “I want to make an orb like the one I gave you before.”

He raised a brow. “Along with the sword?”

“The orb is priority actually, if that’s all you can get.”

He nodded tapping his purse. “With 120 spirit stones to play with you should be able to get it all, depending on the supply. Here take it, you can bid for real this time. Just remember it’s your own money you’ll be spending now.”

I sensed a familiar stream of anger exuding from behind me and halted Master Edrik before he could hand me the purse full of stones.

“Hold on,” I said. “I think I pissed someone off from the last auction.”

“Eh?”

“Short bald guy,” I said without looking at him. “Think he might try to bid against me. You think maybe you can bid for the steel instead?”

Edrik glanced over my shoulder at him. “Okay but he might have seen us together now.”

“No problem,” I said. “I have an idea. Just go for the steel. Which pit is it at?”

“Number 8.”

“Got it,” I said. “I’ll go anywhere but there. We’ll meet up outside.”

Master Edrik nodded and I clapped him on the shoulder, making a big deal of saying farewell to him like he was an old friend I had just happened to run into. I headed in the opposite direction of Pit 8, strolling and pretending to look at the various items on auction. As expected, the bastard began following me again.

Which meant Master Edrik was in the clear now.

I sensed nothing but venom from the cultivator and enjoyed the free Frenzy along the way as I cultivated it within my Dantian. After a few minutes I realized there was more than just him following me. Two more men in similar-looking robes had joined. I was still using [Mask of the Despised] but I guessed it was less effective now that he had already zeroed in on me.

Still, it meant Baldy was looking for more than just a rematch.

And that was just fine with me.

I led them through the crowd heading for the exit.

Once past the Imperial Guards and out into the open side streets, I got a clear view of my would-be assailants. There were five of them in all. A smile crept onto my face as I led them to an even more deserted side street. It was late in the day now, not quite dark, but in the shadows of the alleyway it was quite dim.

The perfect spot for an attack.

I stopped, slowly removing Edrik’s hat. “So… number 87. Seems you have a bone to pick?”

“A what?” the man called out from behind. “Don’t speak your Terran slang to me. You owe me money, you bastard.”

“I don’t recall us having any kind of agreement.” I slowly turned, taking all five of them into view. “And who are your friends?”

They all looked like Foundation Realm cultivators at best. Sloppy around the edges.

They looked pissed as hell too. Members of some no-name sect.

“Never mind that,” Baldy said, taking a step forward. “You made me overpay for those cores, asshole. And now you’re going to pay me back in full.”

“That’s right,” one of his friends parroted him, revealing a length of chain ending in a spiked ball. “You’re going to pay.”

“And if I don’t?” I asked.

Baldy seethed with more anger. “Then we’ll take it in blood.”

I smiled. “You sure about that, bro?”

I flexed with [Fear the Flame] as I dropped [Mask of the Despised].

Five jaws hit the ground as the recognition hit them instantly.

“Oh shit!” one of them shouted. “It’s the Iron Bull!”

I stepped towards them like something from a nightmare, flavoring my Frenzy so they could sense the full power of my core.

“Not only that,” I said. “I’m also Leader of the Terran Sect and an Elder of the Furious Lightning Clan. Now I don’t know what piece of shit sect you belong to, but it’s against imperial law to launch an unsanctioned attack against another martial sect––if you even are one.”

“We’re not!” Baldy cried. “We’re just crafters. Please, a thousand apologies! We did not realize it was you, Iron Bull!”

All at once they fell to their knees and pressed their foreheads to the ground.

The free lemonade was nice, but the recognition and respect was even better.

This was confirmation my win in the ring had done its job.

No one was going to mess lightly with the Terran Sect anymore.

“Get the hell out of my sight before I kill you all,” I said with [Struggler’s Resolve]. “And if you ever talk shit about Terrans again, I’ll hunt you down personally to retract my mercy.”

They took off in a scramble, nearly tripping over themselves.

As they disappeared down the alley a new thought occurred.

“Dammit,” I said with chagrin. “I should have taken back the damn cores.”

* * *

I met up with Master Edrik a short while later just outside the auction.

He was grinning ear to ear hauling a small trolley cart behind him.

“Success!” he said and looking inside the small box upon the cart I spotted four small ingots of metal that gleamed like silver.

“Thanks, Master Edrik,” I said, marveling as I picked one up to examine. “How much were they?”

“A bit steep,” he said. “Got them for 80.”

“I’m not complaining,” I said.

I walked with Edrik back to his house where he took a few extra minutes to melt one of the ingots down into a ball. After polishing it to a gleam, he handed it to me and a wave of nostalgia rushed over me as I held the newly fashioned orb in my hands.

Hope I do you proud, Big Sis, I thought.

But now I had a little sister of my own to raise.

“Here’s the axe and your change,” Edrik said, handing me one of his stock logging axes as well as the purse full of spirit stones. “I should be finished with the Glaive in a couple of weeks or so.”

“Thanks Master Edrik,” I said, and handed him back ten spirit stones from the purse. “For everything you’ve done.”

“Hey this is way too much!”

I smiled. “We’ll call it your share of the swindle.”

He laughed at that and after gathering my things, I bid him and Lysa farewell.

I rolled the orb in my palm, marveling at the corrupted steel as I walked home.

Today was a day full of wins.

But tomorrow there would be even more challenges to overcome.

And now that I had an orb, chief among them would be focusing on my spiritual growth so I could transcribe my knowledge of the Frenzied Flame. My reputation had been solidified for now and that would buy me more time out in the wild.

Time I would need to expose myself to the Bloodmoon and face the monster lurking in the darkness there. My mind was already hatching the plan to focus on that as well as mastering my new Berserker techniques, not to mention taking a crack at developing [Iron Lightning]

My battle with Lady Silver Sparrow was in only two weeks and I needed more reliable defenses to prepare. There was still some work to do in the city, but after that my destination was clear.

Once I got the building started, it was time to head back to the wild.