First fist book 2 conflu.., p.1
First Fist Book 2: Confluence of Fates, page 1
FIRST FIST BOOK 2
CONFLUENCE OF FATES
TJ REYNOLDS
Edited by
JAMES WOLANYK
This is a work of fiction.
Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
FIRST FIST BOOK 2: CONFLUENCE OF FATES. First Edition. June 02, 2024.
Copyright © 2024 TJ Reynolds
Written by TJ Reynolds
Image Copyrights:
Cover Art “First Fist Cover” copyright (C) 2023 Asur Misoa (owned by TJ Reynolds)
"Rowan Portrait Sketch" copyright (C) 2024 Ariel Burgess
"Bodo Portrait Sketch" copyright (C) 2024 Ariel Burgess
"Luca Portrait Sketch" copyright (C) 2024 Ariel Burgess
Created with Vellum
MAP OF ANDAYA
MAP OF WYLISH ISLAND
COMMISSIONED ART BY ARIEL BURGESS
Luca: First Fist of the Jackal Sect, Lichun, the Last Shujin
As I mentioned in the Author’s Note in the First Edition of Seventh Bridge to the Heavens, the seed of this story came from the concept of a wounded cultivator who is not healed by his rise to power. The moment Luca learns to accept this weakness and gains Spirit Fist naturally becomes a turning point in his character arc. When I commissioned Ariel, I knew I needed to see this scene firsthand.
Rowan, Third Meishu of the Jackal Sect
Rowan is a character unintentionally designed after myself. She has the nurturing heart of a mother, and is loving and loyal to her friends. When provoked, however, few in the world of Andaya can withstand her burgeoning power.
If you’re not yet impressed with Rowan’s prowess by the time you finish book 2, just wait. She has a long and epic character arc, a destiny more bloody and valorous than she’d ever have guessed.
Keep an eye out at the end of the book for the third commissioned art piece. Bodo’s image contains a spoiler, so I have intentionally placed it in the narrative in which this aspect of his character is revealed.
Bodo is so tender and sweet, so beautiful in his naivety when we meet him. His arc, as much as it breaks my heart, is the classic and inevitable “loss of innocence” many main characters experience. I created Luca to be a man who’d already seen and done much in life. His arc is one of rediscovering hope and love. Bodo, on the other hand, must learn the harsh truths of the world.
A big thank you to Ariel Burgess (who I met at JordanCon 2024!) for these amazing pieces of art. If anyone would like to follow her work and see more of her various styles, check the links below. She’s accepting more commissions, and believe me, Ariel is worth every copper…
Guest Artist: Ariel Burgess
(Website) www.artistarielburgess.com
(Facebook) www.facebook.com/artistarielb/
(Instagram) www.instagram.com/artistarielb
CONTENTS
Part I
1. When Fear Sprouts Fangs
2. Painted with a Primitive Hand
3. The Limitations of Common Sense
4. Cloying and Caustic
5. Folks Far Less Friendly
6. My Reverence is Reserved
7. A Bounty and a Boon
8. More than Pragmatism
9. The Humanity of Leadership
10. Its Courage was Blind
11. Pure and Precious
12. The Life They’d Chosen
13. The Master He No Longer Feared
14. In Pursuit of Great Things
15. Sinews of a Man’s Heart
16. A Desperate Need for Exposition
17. Less Words and More Action
18. A Nearly Mortal Mistake
19. Enough of a Legacy
Part II
Interlude 1: Ever an Ambitious Hunter
Interlude 2: Danger Delivered with a Smile
20. Both Strange and Foreboding
21. Willing to Part with Kindness
22. An Uninvited and Inevitable Guest
23. Few Mortals Have Witnessed
24. Some Primal Call
25. Every Forest Has its Wolf
26. Something That Should Not Have Been
27. A Reason to Hope
28. Intrusive and Alarming
29. To Stand Witness and Keep Your Hands Clean
30. What it Would be Like
31. The Desire to Hunt
32. Well Beyond His Means
33. To Solidify His Path
34. Nothing Short of Enchanting
35. In That Quiet Space
Part III
Interlude 3: More Than One Monster
36. The Heart of Our Forest
37. In the Light of a Shared Fire
38. Born of Soil and Seawater
39. A Chief Among Us
40. How the Past Will Return
41. The Convenience of Dying
42. A Reason to Move On
43. A Beast Among Men
44. A Dreadful Reverie
45. A Greater Depth of Humanity
46. A Storm of Five Elements
Epilogue: A Quiet Exclamation
OVA: Melodramatic Retellings of a Time Long Past, Starring Leshra, the Witty and Oh-So-Charismatic Bard of Wylish Island
Appendix (With Additions)
Fans of Cultivation, LitRPG, and Progression Fantasy
LitRPG
PART I
1
WHEN FEAR SPROUTS FANGS
“The dream of rest and restoration is easily confused with the waking dream. Yet one is nothing more than the mind uncoiling itself after a long day, the other a taste of wisdom most profound.”
~Excerpt from Order and Chaos: the Twin Serpents of Shuyanese Cultivation, translated by Andaius, the Ergosi Exile
Luca stood at the center of a sprawling, moonlit grove of oaks.
Their grasping branches conveyed a sense of desperation, the withered arms of a host of aged men.
They seemed familiar, somehow, as if he’d walked here before. Luca urged his mind to look closer. The texture of moss-covered bark grew stark. Thick mist shrouded the tree trunks, yet he perceived an oddity. Throughout the dense forest, neither branch nor leaf stirred. All hung in suspension.
Unmoving.
Dew clung to the tall grass at his feet. It did not sway, for there was no wind to move it.
Luca breathed in wet air, filling his lungs and slowly turning round. Cold though the night felt on his skin, his breath caused no mist to form. And no matter which way he looked, he couldn’t discern the direction. Couldn’t find any sign of a path or familiar landmark.
I’ve been here before, damn it. Why can’t I recognize it? What am I not seeing? These trees could be anywhere in Northern Mindea. Why show me this sodden grove?
He’d come to recognize his own dreams by now. The longer he’d had his visions, the more distinct normal dreams had become. If he had to describe the difference, it would be in the texture of the dream, the fabric it was cut from. So much more tangible. He made such observations with his intuition alone.
Pausing in his search, Luca sighed. Frustration clawed at his mind. This same dream had recurred every night for the last week. It felt a little like a vision, yet something was different.
The dream lacked any sort of realization for him to grasp.
Nothing came to him but a vague sense of foreboding. Though he couldn’t define what was causing the apprehension, he could certainly feel it. And acutely so. The fear was like a palpable force, murmuring in his chest like a forgotten secret.
Invisible but overpowering.
The pragmatic side of him wished nothing more than to throw the dream out—it was causing him distress, and for no apparent reason—yet Luca pushed that urge away.
When fear sprouts fangs, a man’s wise to take note. A memory of his father’s wisdom, simple yet undeniable.
He waited for what seemed like hours within the muted dreamscape, hoping to glean some clue as to what this place could possibly mean to him.
Nothing came.
Clenching his jaw, Luca gave up his patient vigil and did what he’d done the previous nights. He took one step forward. Just as before, he woke in his bedchamber. Sweat coated his body and soaked his bedroll.
Poised like a cat atop his chest, Leshra greeted him by quirking her miniature head to one side. You got a bit strange again, I’m afraid to say. Did it happen again, dear?
Luca groaned and sat up. “Yes, same grove of trees. Same impenetrable mist. Ballum above, if I could just figure out what it’s trying to tell me. The fear is bad enough, but not knowing why is eating away at my nerves.”
Leshra scowled at the man but didn’t reproach him. They’d discussed this matter in depth many times. Each utterance of a god’s name lent them power—thus, to invoke Ballum was to deny his own patron—yet she’d been patient enough. Such habits would take years to eradicate entirely, especially when in the thralls of intense emotions.
Rubbing his eyes, Luca breathed long and deep until the pounding in his chest slowed. “Apologies, Leshra. I didn’t mean it. It’s so frustrating. The fear, the unimaginable sense of danger… It’s crushing! I swear, I haven’t felt its like since I was a child.”
I know little of the Mystics and their powers, Luca. You know how cultivators are, always stealing off with secrets… Besides, it’s all rather dull, isn’t it?
Luca chuckled and shook his head.
Leshra attempted to clarify her point, but given
She yawned dramatically. Boring to a fault. I mean, Bodo might be a silly flesh child, but one day he’ll set a host of enemies aflame. Their screams will be a balm unto my very soul, Luca. It’ll be a fine day, don’t you think?
Throwing off his blanket and cloak, Luca rose and stumbled over to the corner of his room. “You’re a sick and twisted thing, Leshra. I hope you know that.”
The goddess tittered and pranced along behind him, tail lifted high in pride. And you love me!
Luca activated the shower mechanism, relishing the feeling of sweat being washed from his body. Regardless of the weeks he’d spent in the Sanctum, the warm stone floor and running water still surprised him. They were luxuries beyond belief. Not for the first time, his mind attempted to conjure up what the Sanctum might have been when the Monks of Order occupied it. A host of cultivators following a single god, forging wonders with their hands and refining their power over countless years.
Luca shook the errant thoughts away and dried off, dressing quickly. As he pulled on his new boots, he said in a serious tone, “Come now, Leshra. I appreciate the levity, but what could it mean? It’s like a partial vision. The emotion that often accompanies one, at least, but with nothing to see.”
Perhaps the universe is warning you that the Sanctum will be overrun by oak trees! It would certainly be a sight to see.
“A forest that walks? Somehow, I doubt that. Yet I can draw no better conclusion myself, as ridiculous as it sounds. Maybe a fire? Or perhaps some danger will befall me in the near future, and for some reason I cannot see whatever beast or snare awaits.”
Unable to offer anything further, Leshra sighed and shifted the subject. You know, these look a lot nicer than the old ones you had. The crimson is rather striking.
Luca bound his second boot with a leather thong and stood. Glancing down at the Rushdragon leather, he had to agree. “Striking? I suppose so. Just wish they weren’t so bright. Not exactly good for stealth, if you know what I mean.”
Stalking out of the room, Luca knocked on the door across the hall. His two disciples were likely deep in sleep. They were new recruits in every way, yet they would also serve as Meishu, the leaders of their respective elements. Holding such positions meant they deserved a bit of respect.
After a few moments, Luca groaned with impatience. “Not that much respect,” he said, pounding on their door.
The sound of rustling blankets could be heard faintly. Then bare feet padding across stone. A groggy Bodobert opened the door, mouth split in a yawn. “Morning, First Fist. I, uh… What’s the matter?”
“Wake your companion and meet me in the training room,” Luca said plainly. “Don’t make me wait longer than fifteen minutes, understood?”
The young man scarcely stifled a groan. He blinked sleepily up at Luca and nodded. “It’s real early, Luca. Are you sure we need to…”
Detecting his master’s annoyance, Bodo let his complaints trail off. He produced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, of course. Be there real quick, Mr. Fist.” Catching his mistake, his eyes went wide and he tried again. “Right away, First Luca! I… We’ll be there!”
Bodo slammed the door. A few harsh whispers followed as the lad likely told Talia of his error.
A belly laugh exploded from the woman, followed by the echo of a hand slapping a thigh.
Despite the heaviness of his mood, Luca couldn’t fully suppress his laughter. Shaking his head, he made his way to the training room.
Luca took the time to warm up his body in the old way. He worked through several of Scalda’s basic steps, loosening his limbs. Leshra had long ago given up on complaining about this practice. The martial forms she’d invented, and the system created by combining the two, were both superior to Mindean Scalda. He’d first begun the practice before reaching his full height, however. Its familiarity was a comfort.
When he’d worked up a sweat, he shifted into the more elegant stances of Fist and Fang.
Fleeting Paw was where he began. As one of the three Basic Stances, it was nearly pure evasion, much more suited for warming up the body and allowing one’s blood to rise, as it were. Luca soon abandoned it for Wrath of the Scouring Wind. Aggressive sweeping motions made it one of the preferred defensive stances, and though it almost completely lacked offensive capability, Luca found that he wanted it this morning.
He needed to feel defended.
Still the sodden fear, he groaned internally. Abate already!
Angry at his dreams and at himself, Luca threw himself into Mountain Stance. Incorporating the brutish efficiency of Mindean martial arts, the familiar form soothed the man where more advanced techniques could not. He fought an invisible army of foes until his clothes were soaked through and his legs burned with exertion.
His disciples showed up a few minutes late, Bodo in the lead and Talia dragging her feet behind him. He’d learned more about the fiery woman since she’d joined his Sect—including the fact that she was not a morning person. That much had been made abundantly clear.
The sight of their discomfort forced a laugh from Luca’s lungs, allowing his body to relax. “You’re late,” he said dryly. “Lovely way to start practice.”
“Apologies, First Fist,” Bodo began. “I—rather, we—”
Luca cut him off with a wave of his hand. “No matter. I assume some dire situation developed that couldn’t be avoided. One hundred pushups, each of you.”
Luca chuckled in delight at the sound of their groans, waiting until they were well into the punishment before continuing, “I’ll be leaving on another trip. Two days at most, like last time. As much time as I’ve invested in Wyndfall, I’m falling behind on my own progression. And while I’m away, I want you both busy and working hard on your own growth.”
Talia chuckled. “I’ll be back in bed as soon as the door hits your ass on the way out.”
Bodo shot the woman a scathing glance. The lad had taken his responsibility as First Disciple seriously, and though he still loved quips, Talia’s brash nature always seemed to shock him.
Seeing the fire in Luca’s eyes, Talia dropped lower on her next pushups. “Just a joke. Promise.” She squeaked. “Hemma save me, I was only kidding.”
Leshra growled, her hackles lifting high above her back.
Talia finished her pushups and collapsed on the ground. Pressing her forehead to the stone, she shouted, much more earnestly, “Sorry, Leshra! My head is still filled with clouds, and I haven’t gotten used to all this. I—”
Luca spoke right over his second disciple, picking up where he’d left off. “I want you both to begin with Crouching Fang this morning. Talia, your stance is still rubbish, so don’t slack off. Then I want you to both run through the Foundation Steps until you’re sick of them.”
Talia cleared her throat. Sitting up on her heels, she smiled nervously and raised her hand.
“You aren’t a sodden schoolgirl, Talia,” Luca said with amusement. “What is it?”
“I’d like to work on Fleeting Paw as well. I feel it’s becoming one of my strengths.”
Luca shook his head firmly. “Not a chance. Fleeting Paw is quick and exciting, and it comes naturally to you. I understand why you favor it. Yet you need more than a single stance to master Fist and Fang, Talia. You must shore up your weaknesses. Work through the others first. Understood?”
