Death Cultivator 2 by eden Hudson (top 10 best books of all time txt) 📕

“I am!” Before he could shout another insult, I’d already pushed three rows deeper into the crowd.

“You’re going to hurt someone.” My mother didn’t shout, but her sharp, crisp voice reached my ears with ease, as if we weren’t surrounded by thousands of howling fight fans. “Slow down. Move through the crowd, not against it.”

“There isn’t time!” I’d begged my mother to please, please let me register early for the Five Dragons Challenge. Unfortunately, she’d refused to even consider letting me take the challenge until after she’d drilled me relentlessly on the defensive techniques that we’d already worked on for most of my life. We’d spent years preparing for this day, but when the time came to leave for the arena she still wasn’t satisfied with my progress. I’d had to threaten to leave without her before she’d agreed to come with me, and now we were almost out of time. “There’s only twenty minutes left.”

I clutched the coinpurse under my shirt tight to my chest and pushed my way another row closer to the arena. We were still ten rows above the arena’s floor when another roar swept through the crowd. The challenger, a guy my age with a face prematurely lined from too much time spent in a labor camp and a whipcord thin body to match, had made his way into the ring. He was a good foot shorter than the Resplendent Sun and gave up at least thirty pounds to his opponent. Despite their size difference, the challenger exuded an aura of street-hardened confidence that I’d seen often in the undercity.

The Empyreals kept the best food for their warriors. As the defenders of the mortal realms it was imperative that they be well-fed and rested to face the incursions of hungry spirits who tried to devour the Empyrean Flame that fueled the word. A lifetime of extra calories and better medical care made the clan members bigger than the rest of us, stronger, and gave them the time they needed to practice and perfect techniques that we laborers could only dream about.

I knew why the laborer was confident, because he and I saw the world through the same eyes.

Despite all the advantages the Resplendent Sun possessed, the challenger had spent most of his life fighting for anything he wanted or needed. The challenger didn’t see an oversized mountain of a man in front of him, he saw a soft Empyreal who’d never had to knock out a neighbor for a scrap of maggoty bread to keep himself from starving. The clans fought because it was their duty and their honor. We fought because our lives demanded it.

“Honored guests!” The announcer unleashed the words in a jinsei-boosted shout that reached every ear in the arena. He must have put something other than simple volume behind the greeting, as a wave of calm rippled through the crowd. Rowdy voices lowered, and every eye focused on the black-robed speaker who stood between the two combatants. I recognized the man as Ben Oolou, a local politician who hailed from the Disciples of the Jade Flame clan. “Welcome to the Five Dragons Challenge! Our first contender is Hau-Lin Gray, who hails from the harvest camps outside our fair city.”

Mr. Oolou paused, and the hometown crowd offered their contender a few feeble shouts of encouragement. Sadly, most of the spectators were from the overcity, and they did not really want any of the laborers to succeed. Every one of us who escaped the labor camps thanks to the challenge would damage the profits of those who watched us fight, and to them even a miniscule loss was too much to bear.

“And here we have the School’s champion, Hank Eli, straight from the overcity of the Resplendent Suns. Give it up for Hank, who’ll face all of our contenders today.”

The Empyreal initiate thrust both fists toward the sky, and the scrivenings on his sleeves crackled like living flames. He turned in a slow circle, letting every member of the crowd soak in his glory, and then stopped, facing his opponent. Hank’s aura flared up from his shoulders like fiery wings, and I marveled at the intensity of the jinsei that surrounded him.

Hank bowed low to his opponent, eyes never leaving Hau-Lin. It would be dishonorable for the challenger to strike before the bout had officially begun, but the champion wasn’t taking any chances. Those of us who had no clans were already considered without honor, and a desperate man might hope to strike the champion down and succeed at the challenge even at the risk of his reputation.

Hau-Lin, it turned out, was an honorable man. The challenger returned the champion’s bow so deeply his forehead almost bumped the arena’s wooden planks. He maintained this posture of deference for long seconds after the Resplendent Sun had straightened, then rose into a wide-legged stance with his arms raised like a boxer. It was an unorthodox combination of a traditional grounding stance to gather jinsei from the earth and a street fighter’s defense.

“His training is poor,” my mother whispered. She took me by the elbow and guided me through the crowd to the next row. Where I’d stomped and shoved, she flowed through the crowd like water. “And his stance will not gather the power he needs to withstand the fury of the Resplendent Sun. Do not make the same mistake when your time comes.”

Members of the clans had great experience accumulating and cultivating the jinsei, or life energy, that surrounded them. As children, they were trained to focus this mystical energy in their cores and used it to fuel their powerful techniques.

Those of us outside the clans never received such advanced training. A few of us could still bend jinsei to our will for small things, and a handful of clanless prize fighters had even mastered some basic jinsei art techniques to give themselves an edge over their less-skilled opponents.

But jinsei was tricky, and a master could turn