After realizing that Fushaka wasn’t just going to let go, the man threw a kick at her head to try and get her to let go. With the added benefit of knocking her out so they could take her to the headquarters and educate her on proper etiquette towards your superiors within the group. This plan fell apart at the start, however, as Fu shifted her head to avoid the kick, and then booted his leg out from under him, twisting his wrist even further to send him tumbling to the ground with a hard smack. The poor guy caught his head wrong on the floor and was knocked senseless, so she let go of his hand and looked to the others.

“So-” Fushaka started, before having to shift suddenly as another of the group swung a punch. It grazed her forehead and left her off balance for a kick to the ribs that came from a third man. She gritted her teeth - as much as they tried to prevent it, there were a few people who got rough in the bedroom - and regained her stance, throwing a pair of punches against the first man, who took them on a tight guard and then shoved her backwards. His friend shifted in well to take advantage of her being off balance and caught her clean in the face with a meaty cross.

Sent sprawling from the blow, the world began to spin as she was dragged to her feet, one man on either arm and a third holding her in a tight headlock that partially choked her. The woman who had been watching this whole fight walked up slowly to Fushaka, gave a gentle smile, and then thrust a palm into Fu’s gut, expertly dodging the vomit that was forced out from the hit. The strike was way beyond what could be done with sheer muscle, and Fushaka’s body had locked up with a frigid chill.

“We get your kind here, sometimes” the woman would say, lifting Fushaka’s face up to meet the woman’s eyes. She didn’t even look cold, just a haughty overproud expression that was dealing with what amounted to a rat found in her bedroom. “So full of vim and vigor, you think you can take on the world. You think that you are anything more than just Trash to serve your betters however you are ordered”

A harsh slap rolled Fushaka’s head and made her see stars, before her face was dragged back to looking at the woman.

“Most just accept their place and obey us, but a few are stubborn little creatures that just don’t acknowledge the futility of their own struggle. But I can’t complain, you make ample distraction during the boring days between work” the woman would raise her hand for another slap, but pause when she heard a man speak behind her.

“Isn’t that just life though?”

Looking to him, there was a middle aged looking man in extremely scruffy, patchwork clothes, drinking from a gourd, with a five foot bamboo staff across his lap. He was lounging on a branch in the most relaxed manner possible, like it was some ultra-luxurious bed, the likes of which only a few favoured elite ever see.

“Refusal to acknowledge the futility of your own struggle is what makes life worth living. If a person ever decided to give up, there would be no more point in living their life”

Profound commentary from the man aside, Fu’s assailant didn’t seem very impressed.

“Do you mind? I am in the middle of something right now” she exclaimed, gesturing to Fushaka.

“As it turns out, so am I” he would reply. “See, you have the right idea but the wrong execution. The greatest strength of a warrior is who you can get to stand next to you. But, those forced into it will crumble the ground beneath you as soon as they can”

He would then hop down from the tree, and - taking a long swig of his gourd - tie it to the belt that had ten pouches attached to it. He then took his staff in hand, and slid into a casual, easy stance. “Another’s lack is no reason to discard your own; so anyone who wants to leave, may go” he would comment, nodding and waiting.

A few of the younger guys shifted to leave, but a frosty stare from the woman pinned them to the ground, and prevented them from running.

“We aren’t going anywhere, old man. So quit your posturing before somebody gets hur-”

She never finished her sentence, as the man moved like quicksilver. Suddenly, his one staff become four, striking Fushaka’s assailants simultaneously and knocking them out in a heartbeat. The four hit the ground at the same moment, and then the man put his staff away and withdrew his gourd again.

“Good day, Miss” he exclaimed, turning to head off.

“Wait!” Fu exclaimed, breathless as she was recovering from the strike from earlier, but still determined to force through it. “What’s your name?” she asked, desperately. The man would look back for a moment, ponder the request, and then eventually nod to himself.

“Hong Ouyang” he said, waiting for a second as if expecting recognition, and then turning again to depart when he did not get it.

Staring at his back for a few seconds, she’d fall onto her ass, and stay there. Partially because she was bruised and hurting, but also because he was amazing. She had watched him more closely than she had watched anyone, and still barely managed to see him move before it was all over. His footwork was flawless, and he handled that staff as if it was a living thing. If she could comprehend just a little of his skill, she’d be able to become phenomenal. The thought of how bad this situation could have gone if he hadn’t turned up, went completely out of her head as she staggered away to get her rewards for the daily gardening and then find herself a quiet moment so she could replay that moment over and over in her head, so it was engrained into her bones.

“Tell me you ran into a tree or something dumb” came a sudden voice from the darkness. Opening her eyes, there was Talia. Not very happy.

“Ohh, right. Yea” Fushaka would comment, having totally forgotten what happened a short while ago, in her fervour for getting into the man’s movements. “Some people don’t like paying, I guess. Or, like, they are really fucking lazy and just want to bully people into doing work for them? I honestly didn’t get a lot of coherence out of them, to be honest” Fu would admit, stroking the black eye she got from the punch and subsequent slap.

“Sounds like the Three Mind Society. They got a new leader recently, who’s kind of a dick” she’d reply, exhaling and shaking her head. “Wait here” Talia ordered, taking off and coming back a few minutes later with another, thicker manual.

“One Yin Manual. It’s a breathing technique that’ll help you recover faster in the future. The world of the Warrior is not a gentle one, and the Strong often take from the Weak. But there are rules, regulations and understandings. See, if you get a reputation for taking whatever you want with your power, then there is no cultural protection from having your stuff taken by other people. Similarly, only an evil bastard would steal from a noble soul, and many would take umbrage at the attempt, so he wouldn’t need to be strong to reclaim his stuff.

Also, if someone ever does try to force themselves onto you because they are stronger than you, tell the nearest Elder. That is straight up illegal for people. It is a line we have drawn, and a line we will hold against all opposition” Talia would have a surprisingly stern and serious tone. It was both nice and spooky to see.

“This culture needs a book of it’s own” Fu commented, leaning back and opening the manual that had been brought.

“You…haven’t been going to the lessons?” Talia asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“I…there are lessons on this? I’ve just been focused on the Xingtian thing” Fu replied, scratching the back of her head.

“You really are hopeless, aren’t you? Like a cat with a ball of string. Come on” Talia exclaimed, taking Fushaka’s hand and leading her off to where she needed to go.