Breakfast went by quickly and without much incident. Denis, Marlon and I did our usual dish swap routine — though for Bao, this was clearly something new. We offered, of course, but he declined, a little too cautiously.
After that, we got on with the usual. Bao tagged along with me all the way down to the Armour Hall, then we parted ways — different gardens, apparently.
Diego wasn’t around today. Turns out even genetically engineered servants need rest.
But I had Albert! Who, without so much as a greeting, assigned me a patch of those yellow flowers under the trees — enough to last me until lunch — and handed me control of ten drones.
I asked him to hold up a second and carefully discussed the task conditions. Maybe it was his fourth stage pressure, or maybe he just had that kind of charisma, but I couldn’t talk to him as casually as I did with Diego. Either Diego.
We agreed that I’d work for an hour and a half — flower collecting for three points — take a half-hour break, and then start a second round. Albert had one condition though: he’d check my efficiency after the first session.
For the next ninety minutes, the drones were flying like mad. I barely had time to breathe, let alone mess around with the formation. And for some reason, I really didn’t want to disappoint Albert.
I didn’t.
Somehow, not a single drone got damaged by a Qi detonation, and the amount of flowers gathered — along with the area covered — seemed to satisfy the thinhorn just fine. He granted me permission to take a walk.
I activated the formation.
The sudden spike in sensation hit like a wave — uncomfortable, but powerful.
I could feel the Qi flowing between the plants, but the way Fist Qi shimmered inside those strange fruits hanging from the trees was definitely new. There was always less of it on the flowers — and what was there was far less concentrated. Even here, those yellow blossoms held less Fist Qi than the chamomile I’d handled before.
Not that I was particularly interested in Qi cultivator botany. The fruits just made for a perfect test subject — and I didn’t have to stare awkwardly at other cultivators while doing it.
I focused on one fruit and turned the formation off.
Everything dulled. Like I’d ducked underwater. The sensations dimmed. The Garden’s general Qi was still there, just weaker… But the Fist Qi inside the fruit vanished completely. There was still Qi in it, but it didn’t have that signature taste — the weight, the decisiveness.
Maybe it was a purity thing?
I switched the formation back on.
Then off again.
And kept switching it on and off for about half an hour, until Albert sent in the next batch of drones.
Another hour and a half of shifting baskets. This time, one drone did take a hit from a Qi detonation, but Albert sent a replacement right away. As soon as the final basket was filled, I returned the drones to Albert and set off on another walk.
By now, I had a decent grasp on how to work with the formation — turning it on and off wasn’t a problem anymore, though it still took me about ten seconds each way.
I turned it on and, for the first time, used my enhanced senses to try and find a test subject.
No luck.
For whatever reason, cadets didn’t seem to train near the trees. I had to head back towards the flowerbeds. That’s where the action was.
About ten platforms were occupied — all sorts of techniques on display. I had a think and picked the one that looked the most useful to me: a cadet practising a fast-paced style with lots of strikes. Seemed like his projections would be weaker — which was exactly what I needed.
Once I’d chosen my target and his platform, I started circling around him, as much as the Garden’s square layout allowed. The idea was to get a sense of his technique’s “flavour” with the formation on… and then try again with it off.
The first step went fine — I even paced back and forth to compare the sensation. But once I switched off the formation... I had to literally climb onto the flowerbed next to his platform to feel anything at all.
I walked slowly past the cadet, trying very hard not to look like I was trying very hard.
Maybe I’d have better luck with someone using a stronger technique — and instead of pacing like an idiot, I’d just sneak up from behind.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
Less suspicious.
I’d already picked my next target — hey, that looked like Ogre Fist! — when I got a message from Marlon. He was heading to lunch and letting me know Denis wouldn’t be joining. He’d also messaged Bao, but Bao hadn’t replied.
Still, he turned up. And once again, his presence plunged our table into uncomfortable silence.
With Denis — our resident chatterbox — absent, breaking that silence was... a challenge.
Marlon and I checked out our food and found nothing worth swapping. Bao started eating straight away, so we didn’t offer him anything.
After lunch, I headed back to the room and decided to just relax. My roommates weren’t back yet, so I put on some music, sprawled out on the bed, and opened up my tablet. I still had time before my next shift — though not quite enough to go anywhere. And honestly, where would I even go?
The Fist Garden was still my main gig, and I was already tired of it today.
So — library time. Back to the Ogre Fist.
From there I jumped over to other fist techniques, and kept browsing until I started yawning. I was getting sleepy, but didn’t want to miss my alarm and end up on Liang Shi’s hit list.
I had to make tea. Even though what I really wanted was a beer…
It was boring.
And then — salvation came from someone I’d almost forgotten about.
Incoming message: O. S. Hakim
Subject: Tea
Content: Found the tea. Specifically, Yellow Pine Blossom Tea!!! 15 grams — 50k.
That’s actually not bad. According to what I dug up online, 15 grams of green-grade tea go for at least 45k. That’s the minimum price — for the lowest quality. And I’m pretty sure that’s what we’ve got here. Unless it’s grey-grade. I haven’t seen grey on the market at all. Considering what Novak said — that they use basically reject flowers for this stuff — I could barely bring myself to pay for it.
Did I even need this tea that badly? Did I need Doc? I hadn’t really spoken to him all week…
No.
I’d made a promise, and a promise had to be kept.
Although... a bit of backup wouldn’t hurt.
Outgoing message: R. P. Robinson
Subject: Tea
Content: Yellow Pine Blossom Tea. Does quality matter?
Doc called me back literally the same second.
“What quality?!” he asked, clearly excited.
“No idea,” I answered honestly.
“Price?”
I hesitated. Then answered.
“15 grams — 50k.”
“Definitely not red-grade,” he said, though his enthusiasm didn’t drop an inch. “Bring it. I need to see it.”
“Hang on, Doc. I haven’t actually bought it yet.”
“Even better! Set up a meeting for me.”
“Uhh… I’m not sure my contact would go for that.”
“Jake, for God’s sake, we’re talking about a legal product, not contraband!”
“Yeah, right,” I said, not quite agreeing. “Last time someone overheard me talking about it, they thought I was trying to get high.”
“You’d have to be a bloody idiot to waste a valuable resource just to get stoned! Ah, never mind!” he waved that off like it didn’t matter. “Just try to get me a meeting. Or at least a photo of the flowers.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
I called Omar. At first he sounded smug. Then wary, the moment I mentioned Doc. No chance of convincing him to meet in person, but he did agree to send a photo — which he did a few minutes later.
The picture showed an open tin filled with small, dried, twisted blossoms — about the size of my pinky nail.
I forwarded it to Doc. He grumbled that it wasn’t enough to assess the quality, but still told me to buy it.
I arranged for Omar to drop it off at my place. My shift wasn’t over yet, but he really wanted the money. Hakim turned up at my door twenty minutes later, grinning, tin in hand.
I let him in and poured a cup of tea — Gunpowder, not Clear Thoughts.
“Open it,” I told him.
Omar popped the lid. I leaned in and did the only kind of appraisal I was qualified for — I took a sniff.
The dried blossoms smelled of hay, apples, and pine. There was a faint burnt bitterness underneath — but yeah, apples and pine were there. Maybe the flowers were absolute rubbish. But they were the real deal.
I sent Omar the 50k. He was clearly delighted.
How much had this tea actually cost him?
"Much appreciated!" he said, nearly bowing.
"Anything you need, just say the word! If it can be found — I’ll find it!"
"Absolutely," I promised. Next time, I really needed to remember to haggle.
Since we still had tea left, and kicking Hakim out would’ve been rude, I asked him: "So, what’s the news? Anything interesting?"
"Same old, same— oh no, wait. Something weird did happen yesterday. Another first-year girl vanished. Two Condensations came for her—"
"Remind me, please. Condensation is...?"
Omar stared at me like I’d just asked if the sun rises in the west.
"Third stage. How can you not know that?"
"Amnesia, remember?" I said.
"It’s been two weeks since that amnesia! They walk around here all the time — cultivators in the Qi Condensation stage… Never mind. Anyway — these two enforcers in white coats dragged her off to the infirmary. Said it was for a migraine check. No one’s seen her since. Bet you anything we won’t see her again. Same as the last one — they’ll bury her in the Wastes somewhere."
"Where do you even get these stories?" I shook my head.
"Don’t believe me if you don’t want to. But I’m telling you — either she worked for demons, or the people who took her did. She wouldn’t have kicked and screamed like that if everything was fine. I could feel it in my arse! And it hasn’t failed me yet."
"She fought back?" I asked.
"Big time! Nearly bit one of the 'medics' on the nose!"
"Bet that was a show."
"You’re telling me. Shame no one recorded it. I would’ve loved to watch. And here’s another piece of proof that something’s off — they took her straight from the dorm and no one thought to pull out their tablet and film it? Don’t buy it."
"What if she shows up tomorrow like nothing happened? No migraine, no nothing? Maybe it’s all in her head..." I spun my finger at my temple.
"In that case, I’d steer very clear. Doesn’t matter if she’s mad or not — girl’s dangerous. Anyway," Omar finished his tea. "Take care. And don’t forget my connections!"
"Wouldn’t dream of it," I told him as I walked him to the door.
As soon as it shut behind him, I grabbed my tablet and opened my mail.
Outgoing message: V. Novak
Subject: Rahman
Content: Apologies, sir — mind if I ask what’s going on with the girl? Your students didn’t explain anything yesterday, just said I was safe. But the rumours are already flying.
The reply didn’t come for another hour. By that point, my in-block shift was over and I was already a hundred metres from Doc’s office.
Incoming message: V. Novak
Subject: Rahman
Content: What rumours?