Ainsworth groaned as he heard four quick knocks on his door as he began to set up the bar.

“Pay up!” shouted the man on the other side.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it! I have your damned money!” Ainsworth yelled back, hopping over the bar counter and quickly unlocking the door. “How much was it again? Five-hundred?” 

“Mm-hmm,” replied the plump, wrinkly tax collector. “Nice weather today, Ainsworth. It’d do you good to have a walk now and then. Keeps ya slim.”

Ainsworth jostled the tax collector’s beer belly, then tossed him the pouch of coins. “I don’t see much ‘slim’ around here, old man. Wanna come in for a drink?”

The elderly tax collector scowled and squinted at Ainsworth with one eye. “You’d probably poison my sake.”

In actuality, the tax collector was not a real tax collector, by pure definition. They all served the Lianhua Syndicate, the real rulers of this city. Ainsworth had no clue what prevented the Duke from coming over and purging the city of the mafiosos. 

They both stared at each other, then burst out into laughter. 

“C’mon in! I finished wiping off all the vomit on the floor,” Ainsworth chuckled, hopping over the bar counter and fetching some light alcohol. “How do you feel about a shot of wine? It’s been aging for years since nobody around here can afford it. Been waitin’ for you to show up since last month after remembering that it still exists.”

“You forgot it even existed? Something that high quality?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say high quality, but it’s about as high as quality gets in this district. So, I notice you came earlier today.”

The tax collector caught the wine that Ainsworth slid across. “Been waking up earlier lately. Looking at the sunrise is nice, and the fresh morning air does you a favor. Less burning garbage and blood staining the breeze. Plus, you can avoid the unsavory types when you get up early.”

“Yeah, I’ve had my share of unsavory types.”

“You definitely have. Running a pub around here’s gotta end up with you bumping into half a dozen or so every day.”

Ainsworth nodded, then raised his glass of wine. “Cheers?”

The tax collector laughed, then did the same. “Cheers.”

A crisp clink resounded from their rims bumping together, and they both downed their shots in one fell swoop. 

 

The sound of metal clattering on the ground filled Min’s ears for what seemed like the millionth time. He truly felt like he was about to go insane with frustration. 

“Maybe this whole ‘murdering people’ deal isn’t cut out for you,” said Min, watching Seni stare at the sword on the ground.

Earlier, Seni had run up and asked Min to teach him how to fight. From that point on, Seni had dropped just about every single training weapon he had put his hands on. 

“Fuck!” he cursed in frustration. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Every damn time! I can’t do this. I, I hear his screams, Min. A-and, and the fire...shit! I thought it would click when I put my hands on a sword again, but I just can’t do it!”

“Whoa there. Take a couple of breaths, Seni. Calm down. That must’ve been rough to go through.”

Seni clutched his sword hilt close to his chest. “This sword has been with me through fire and brimstone. I don’t think I can do this. Maybe I should go looking for its missing blade...that ought to work.”

“To the point where you need to keep in on you to even fight? You seem pretty well off without a weapon. Didn’t you beat that phoenix immortal guy into the ground?”

“That’s because I was possessed. I need to learn how to fight for myself or else I won’t be able to protect you. Also, I think I made a breakthrough after looking through the poetry book, and it might just put our entire lives into jeopardy.”

“Could you tell me what that breakthrough is?”

Seni looked around at the other people training in the Mercenary Guild’s arena. “No. Not now, at least. Too many people around. And the less you know, the better.”

“Precisely how important is this information that you claim to have?”

“It could cure death.”

Min raised his eyebrows. “Well. Nevermind I asked, we’ll resume this conversation back at the inn.” 

“That’s what I thought. What if I tried martial arts?”

“Didn’t you say you used to be a swordsman?”

“If I keep my sword hilt in my hand while I fight, I might be able to do it. Besides, I seriously can’t stop shaking whenever I think about killing someone with a weapon for the first time in a couple of decades, so...what if I try pummeling them to death?”

“Looks like you’re feeling better, seeing that you’re cracking jokes again. Well, you go and try to learn an entirely new combat style.”

Seni sized up the training dummy in front of him and clutched onto his sword hilt. 

Unfortunately, he knew next to nothing about martial arts. Nervously, he edged towards the dummy while Min watched and squeezed his eyes shut, then threw a blind left hook.

He could feel his knuckles slam against the dirty cloth binding the dummy stuffed with straw. It split open, and its innards blasted out while the wooden post holding it up cracked and splintered into bits.

As gruesome as it could have been if it were a real person, Seni lit up in a bright smile and jumped up and down.

“Min! Min, I did it! Did you see-”

“I’m a bloody human, and I could throw a punch with ten times as much technique as you have. Come here.”

Min stepped over with another dummy and stabbed it into the ground. 

“What are you doing?” Seni asked.

“I’m gonna give you instructions, but you’ll have to punch at the air first until I see what I want to see. Now, the first thing I want you to do is to toss a straight punch, but put a spin on it. You’ll want to rotate your fist as you make contact with your target. I dunno much about the science behind it, but trust me, it hurts. I’ve been in plenty of brawls, so I’d know.”

Seni obliged, punching the air while quickly rotating his fist. 

A cyclone of air erupted from the strike, almost digging trenches into the dirt floor as it spun. 

“Oh, yeah. Alright, I can somehow see this working out,” Min exclaimed, clearly impressed from the display. 

“Reckon I could take out an entire building in one shot?”

“Maybe. That definitely looked powerful enough. Hey, since your legs are so long, what if you tried doing kicks instead?”

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to look up my skirt whenever I do one of those flying kicks or something?”

“Ha-ha, very funny. I’m serious, though. Your legs are, like, more than double the thickness of your arms. Unless it’s all just fat down there.”

“I’m pretty sure fat doesn’t work like that, Min. You can’t just concentrate fat in like one area without being affected in the rest of your body. Unless it’s breasts, I guess. Hey, you wanna give my booty a squeeze to test the firmness? We could figure out if it’s muscle or fat.”

“I would rather not touch your sweaty ass. Go do it yourself.”

He stuck his tongue out at Min. “You’re no fun. Ugh, I hope I’m as flexible as I was when I was married.”

At first, Min didn’t get the sexual joke. Then he realized what his friend was talking about and blew air out of his nose in acknowledgment.

“You almost got me to chuckle on that one - wait, what the fuck are you doing?”

Seni was lifting one of his legs into the air and pressing it extremely close to his chest. “I’m testing to see if I can pull off an ax kick.”

“Could you do it less sexually?”

Min was interrupted when Seni’s ax-kick more or less bisected the new training dummy.

Straw spilled from the almost clean cut that had slashed the dummy in half from head to stake. It was as if his heel had truly become a heavy blade on its way down.

“I’m telling you, I’m going to be the greatest martial artist the world has ever known.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

“Then I’ll settle for the world’s sexiest martial artist.”

Seni wiggled his hips, trying to tease Min. Unfortunately, there was hardly a reaction, so he gave up and pouted. They both sighed, and knew that the training regime ahead of them would be a long one.

To begin with, Min didn’t know much about martial arts either, and most people in the Mercenary’s Guild trained with weapons. If they wanted to learn advanced unarmed combat, then they would have to enroll in a dojo that almost nobody could afford. For now, Seni would have to learn through Min’s flawed techniques of tavern boxing.

 

It was around this time that more of Ainsworth’s usual customers began to trickle in after a long day at work. Naturally, being the bartender, he’d hear all sorts of rumors about new narcotics, who died in the latest gang war, which hookers were the prettiest, which of the male hookers had the thickest posteriors, et cetera. 

He glanced up from wiping down a spill at a group of club-wielding ruffians that had swaggered into his pub. A couple of eyebrows were raised and some others stared.

Ainsworth himself was part of the former. A simple gesture of raising his eyebrow, then focusing back on cleaning the spillage.

However, when their leader leaned over and shoved her face directly into his, he had to acknowledge them.

“...Can I help you?” he asked as politely as he could.

“Yeah,” replied the woman, nodding her head. “Yeah, you could. See, we’re the new tax collectors in town.”

“How exciting. Unfortunately, I already paid today, so please come back next month.”

“It’s not about that. See, there’s a missing fee that we just couldn’t overlook.”

“...All right. How much do I owe?”

She smirked and held up two fingers. “Two hundred.”

For a moment, Ainsworth was taken aback. “T-two hundr- what!? I knew the tax collector for 5 years! Never once did he ever mention this supposed unpaid fee!”

“Tough shit. There is now.”

“Wait, are you cretins even tax collectors? How do I know you’re not just robbing me? You might get away with this on the ground, but the Syndicate doesn’t let that slide in these towers-”

Ainsworth gaped as the leader pulled out a card that had the symbol of the Syndicate, a lotus flower, stamped onto it in blue wax. A counterfeit copy of the card would mean that any who used it would suffer dearly, and two hundred coins were nowhere near the amount of suffering that one would go through. 

“That’s right. You know the old tax collector? The fat old fuck?” she sneered.

He could feel his blood begin to boil when they insulted the previous tax collector. “...What is your point?”

“We’re his official replacements. He was getting soft, yeah? So now we take over that position. And, as it so turns out, an extra fee has been added to your tax payments.”

“On, on what bloody grounds!?”

She cackled, and the rest of her crew followed suit. “You hear him? It’s the southerner tax!”

“The WHAT!? Since when!?”

“Since now.”

“That’s preposterous! That’s daylight robbery! Wait until the Syndicate hears of this, there’s clearly no ‘southerner tax’ and you know it! This is embezzlement, you hear me?”

He was just about to smash open one of the empty bottles that he kept on his shelves for decor and begin stabbing the brutish woman, but he was immediately pulled over the counter and thrown on the ground.

“Heh. You hear him? Talks just like one of them rich fucks on the other side of the river,” one of the goons mocked.

Ainsworth took a kick to the stomach and had the wind knocked out of him. He figured out quite quickly what was about to happen, and curled up into a ball as the squadron of thugs began to stomp and kick.

Blows rained down on his head, shoulders, back, sides, abdomen - just about everywhere, really. At some point, one of them even lifted their club and bashed him in the stomach with it.

“Filthy!” shouted the leader, viciously kicking at his ribs. “Fucking! Southern! Dog!”

He doubled over on the floor, gasping for breath. His vision was spinning after getting his head stomped on so many times, They seemed satisfied and backed off.

“Y-you, you won’t-” Ainsworth began to say, then suddenly choked and fell limp when their leader kicked him right in the neck.

He coughed and sputtered, painfully moving his bruised and battered arm to pound his chest.

“I expect seven hundred the next time I come along. Have a nice day!” their leader said, waving good-bye as she left.

By the time Ainsworth was beginning to regain the other half of his consciousness on the filthy stained floor, they had made their swift retreat from the pub.

All the while, his customers carried on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

 

In the late afternoon glow, when the air was beginning to cool down, a mysterious pair strolled through the winding streets of the East District. They were making a beeline for one of the massive stone towers.

‘Claustrophobic’ was the right word to describe the district. Each street ran through parts of the town that had buildings packed together like sardines. Most of the architectural integrity was long since compromised, leaving houses and stores in shambles from the neverending state of violence that the city was in. Incredible numbers of homeless encampments were set up in between each building. Old tarps patched with rags served as the roof above their heads to protect them from the wind and rain, and they slept on the disheveled mattresses salvaged from the nearby abandoned houses that had long since collapsed into rubble.

The resentful eyes of beggars and thieves and robbers and gangsters all glared at the well-dressed duo humming a lively tune as they made their way down the filthy cobbles. All of the unfortunate with a single thought forming in their head.

Pompous bastards.

It was only natural that they would be envious of their way of life on the other side of the district. To be free of worry about being murdered in broad daylight while going to work, to be free of worry about being stolen from one’s own home to be experimented on with drugs, to be free of worry about the gang wars that would spontaneously erupt over the smallest of infractions.

Proper food and water was almost a rare delicacy in the areas outside of the great stone towers. Most were starving, desperate, or, in all likelihood, both. If one cared to look closely, their ribs would be visible through their dry skin that stretched over their weary bones.

A gangbanger jumped out from an alleyway. “Oi! Who do you-” 

His introduction was cut short when the smaller member of the duo picked him up by the throat and threw him back into the alley.

Splat.

The only thing left of him was a large splatter of red painted on the walls and a bit of skin that hadn’t yet peeled off.

Every other brute who had been eyeing the two shrunk back into the shadows as the stench of death began to crawl up their nostrils.

“Just wondering,” said Min. “How many people did you kill when you had a sword?”

“I’m not a serial killer. I don’t count how many guys I’ve murdered,” Seni grumbled. "And don't give me some moral high ground shit. That guy was probably a murderer. Nobody in these gangs is innocent, Min. Speaking of which, do you feel like we're being followed?"

“Alright, then give me an estimation of your body count. It’s gotta be pretty high when you’re nonchalantly painting this entire town red.”

Seni was beginning to become agitated and glared. “None of your damn business.”

Min backed off, noticing his unwillingness to talk about his past exploits. Still, he couldn’t help but throw in one last humorous quip. “...You’re a villain.”

“What!? Ooh, you little hypocrite. How many people did you kill?”

“At least ten guys in the war. Just because I’m a hypocrite doesn’t mean I can’t criticize you. And you’re a whole villain, no doubt about it.”

“Those guys you killed were just conscripts. They probably had families back home.”

“I was just following orders.”

“You’re a bloodthirsty monster, Min! I can’t believe that you didn’t massacre your entire village when you found out they raided your house!”

“I’m not that psychotic. Well, I might bump my psychotic scale up a little if your plan doesn’t work.”

 

Ainsworth was cleaning up another afternoon’s worth of dried vomit off the floor when a well-off couple walked into the pub. He had been covering a stinging nasty gash on the side of his cheek with a cold, moist towel. All thanks to the new tax collectors, of course.

He hopped over to the bar and fixed his ruffled and bloodied clothes in an effort to look presentable. Before he could utter any greeting, they sat down and slid him a sack of coins.

“Tell us everything you know about the Syndicate,” the taller one whispered. “And I’ll give you double.”

The southerner was stunned. “Ah, er…”

“You could do with being less intimidating, Min,” said the other one. “Here, let me show you how it’s done.”

The young woman suggestively lifted her skirt and smiled seductively at Ainsworth. “Hey there. Why don’t we have a private chat? Let’s take this upstairs.”

Ainsworth immediately flushed and stared at the sack of coins still in his palms, before managing to sputter out a few words. “P-please…”

 

The pair watched as the southern barkeep began to say something in response.

“...Uwah! Goblet one root mud pruned spicy powder?” the barkeep said.

Seni and Min stared at each other, then turned towards him.

“What the fuck did you say?” they said in sync.

“Hold up, he’s a southerner,” said Min. “I know that accent, let me think for a bit. Back in the war, I met with a couple of southern soldiers, and they taught me a bit of Tzartish. I guess this guy doesn’t speak Gulin very well. Let’s see...okay, he said, ‘Please get me out of this hellhole.’”

The other man nodded, then performed an elaborate bow. “Receptionist name buzz, Ainsworth von Ludwig Entierena the Fourth.”

“His name is Ainsworth...something something the Fourth,” Min translated.

“I could pick that up. You didn’t have to tell me,” Seni replied. “So you’re going to tell us everything about the Syndicate if we get you out of here?”

The southerner nodded, sensing that saying anything would only cause further confusion.

“What do you say, Min? Take him back?”

“I’m going to regret roping in this guy, but this is probably one of the best leads we’ve got right now. Go get your belongings, uhh...Ainsworth? Yeah, we’ll stay here and wait.”

Frankly, Ainsworth was elated and shook the taller man’s hand multiple times, then bowed down and elegantly kissed the shorter woman’s hand, to which she exclaimed, “Oh, my! Min, is this what they do in the south? How charming.”

 

The two waiting downstairs could hear loud thumps from upstairs and soon wished that they had bought something to drink while Ainsworth was packing his things. However, it proved to be a shorter wait than they expected, as he soon came rushing downstairs with a knapsack that was presumably filled with clothing and money.

Just as they stood up to leave, Seni noticed a familiar figure coming in.

“Yue Seni. I’ve come to repay a debt.”

It was Rouyi, the cat immortal.

Seni buried his face in his hands. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Min patted him on the back. “Don’t worry. If it comes down to it, I’m sure you can whoop his ass.”

Unfortunately for them, Rouyi noticed this affectionate exchange, and his rage-filled eyes flared. “So this is the guy you’d prefer over me? A gross, middle-aged mortal with a shitty beard and looks no better than your average guy on the streets?”

“Dude, the fact that you followed us here probably makes you even grosser than me,” Min replied, shaking his head. “I should’ve known better. It’s always the rich pompous assholes in these crappy Chinese web novels.”

Rouyi began to advance on them. “I’ll not stand for this. An insult I can take, but that’s one insult too far!”

On the other hand, Min was relaxed and leaned back on his bar stool. “And that’s the problem with you people. Pride this, pride that. Learn to calm down once in a while.”

By this point, Rouyi had begun to step dangerously close and Min nudged Seni.

“Hey!” he whispered. “Seni! He’s getting closer!”

He turned his head to notice that Seni was petrified again, shaking and clutching his sword hilt.

“Oh, no.”

Min found himself to be picked up by the collar and thrown across the room, smashing into chairs and tables.

Wood cracked after he bounced off of a piece of furniture, and his body spun through the air before crashing down onto the vomit-stained floor, then slamming the back of his head against a wall that sent his vision spinning nauseously.

It was by far one of the most painful experiences he ever had in his life. Even though he had fought an immortal and lived to tell the tale, he had the sinking feeling that he probably wouldn’t last long against an enraged one.

With quaking knees, Seni stood up and pointed his finger at Rouyi. “Y-you! Stop that! Right now!”

Their assailant turned his back on Min, granting the sore and injured man a brief respite. “Whatever the fuck could you, of all people, do against me?”

“I, I-I-I-I, I’ll…”

Seni could feel his consciousness fading once again as he began to become possessed. 

He truly did not desire to leave his body in the care of some unknown entity again and have them do his work for him. Yet, what other choice did he have? He was useless when it came to violence, no matter how much he wanted to fight for himself. It was a futile struggle in the end. 

Maybe I really can’t fight by myself after all. It’ll be better if I just...give in, right?

His vision was starting to go black, and he could feel the process now. As if his very consciousness was retreating into his skull for another foreign entity to take the reigns.

The resounding strike drew the attention of every single person in the room.

For whatever reason, Ainsworth had slapped Seni.

Even he didn’t know why he would do such a thing, only that the girl looked as if she was about to faint at any moment.

“Hey, get yourself together!” Ainsworth hissed. “You’ve got to run, he’s clearly after you!”

Seni blinked and looked down at his hands.

I...haven’t been possessed?

“Go! Get going!” Ainsworth was shouting.

I could’ve ran last time, couldn’t I? When that phoenix guy destroyed my house? 

I'm a coward.

"You ought to be ashamed," Warrior Seni whispered. "You have all of this power at your disposal. And you squander your blessings that you take for granted."

"Please! Min's going to die!" Fashionable Seni cried. "Maybe if we let ourselves get possessed again, we can fix things!"

"Fool! He's never going to learn if this 'possession' just does all of his work for him. Maybe if Min actually died, you'd finally learn your lesson. Eh? Right? Wouldn't it be easy if you just left all of this behind?"

Fashionable Seni sniffed as if he were about to weep. "I wish Marquis Xue was here. He'd know what to do."

Shut. Up.

The thought of standing by and doing nothing while Min was murdered was a thought that filled Seni with a blazing, boiling rage in his chest. A type of rage that was directed entirely at his own incompetence, that sent his heart rapidly pounding to fill his veins with adrenaline hotter than molten steel. This was a feeling that he experienced for the first time in thirty long years. It was a different kind of anger, one that made him want to tear his own hair out at the injustices of the world that led to this point.

In other words, it was a long and ancient pent-up madness that pounded the war drum in his small chest and thrummed in his ears.

His knees had stopped wobbling. Despite his short and petite stature, he made it clear that everyone in the room was in the presence of a dignified, full-blooded immortal with an unyielding fury that far surpassed what the other immortal in the pub could possibly muster up.

“Be quiet. I...I’m not going to run. See, the truth is, I’m also an immortal. Funny how things turn out, right?” Oddly, for some reason, Seni began to chuckle, then gradually escalated into cackling like a madman. “And, well, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help him when he needed an immortal friend the most, right?”

He gripped onto his sword hilt so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Before he knew it, he was marching across the room to face Rouyi.

The room was silent and speechless as everyone held their breath. They knew that this was going to be the only time in their lives that they could watch a fight break down between two immortals - two members of a monstrous apex species at the top of the food chain. 

And they trembled in excitement and fear.

“You won’t last long without putting on your true form,” Rouyi growled.

Seni was defiant and growled back. “Watch me.”

Ainsworth could feel a faint spike of pain piercing his heart when Seni threw his opponent over his shoulder and through the bar, smashing every single vintage bottle stacked onto the shelves. Rouyi found himself launched out of the hole in the tower that Ainsworth would look through every night before going to bed. 

True, he was going to abandon this pub once and for all, but witnessing the damage was still painful nonetheless.

 

AN: This has nothing to do with the story, but I just wanted to talk about how underrepresented foxes are in fantasy/isekai. Like, a fox is a perfect blend between dogs and cats. Why do we never have a guy with a fox pet? It's always a fluffy wolf that helps him fight or a cat that can talk, so where are our fox friends at? It doesn't matter if the reader is a dog person or a cat person because everybody loves foxes and their fluffy tails, right? RIGHT???