Pushing through the crowd, Ji-eun followed the swift moving signature of the runner. They were just ahead, past another mass. Clearly, they were struggling against the crowds too. With a final shove, her eyes landed on the back of a man who had to be the source of qi.

  He wore light clothes and had an athletic build, a full head and shoulders taller than Ji-eun. Though that wasn’t hard to do. Strapped across his back was a dark green case as long as she was tall. The runner’s bald head poked out from behind it.

  She moved to call out, but stopped herself. The man in front of her was a cultivator. The exact kind of person she was trying to avoid. She was a Demon now: she had to start thinking like one. Or, like she thought a Demon should think. Regardless, she had to be more careful.

  But she needed the money, and Demon or not, she was a cultivator. The runners wouldn’t have to know everything about her to employ her. They just couldn’t find out or else they’d kill her on the spot. Hell, if the guy in front of her found out, he’d kill her on the spot right here and now.

  She retraced her hand. Her qi wavered slightly. The man turned around, curiosity plain on his face. Oh gods, he had felt her. But she already had her qi back under control, and did her best to weave into the crowd. It worked.

  The runners would have been an easy job to get, too. The bus driver had hammered home how hard it would be for a cultivator to get a job in Cloudrest. Ji-eun didn’t know why — shouldn’t super humans be even more desirable? — but if a local had said it, it was probably true. She continued with the crowd, walking up a flight of stairs and into a spacious courtyard surrounded on all sides by towering buildings. People flicked open umbrellas and zipped up coats around her, but Ji-eun stood and took in the enormity of the city around her. How many lights there were, and all in so many different colours! She took note of the runners position one last time, and moved in the opposite direction. It was just too big a risk to take so soon after… igniting. That’s what Master Yan had called it, right?

  Ji-eun ducked under an awning on one side of the street. It was a little overwhelming. More than a little, if she were honest. All the sounds, the lights, even the smells. All of it stood out in perfect clarity. Had her qi enhanced even her senses? It would only make sense. But gods it would be annoying. Everything hadn’t simply gotten louder: she could make out individual sounds far better than she should be able to. It was the same with smells, and even light, though she didn’t quite know what that meant. Everything looked sharper, she guessed? Or more in focus. Hopefully, like her qi, she could tune some of the extra noise out. She’d go insane otherwise.

  “Forgot your umbrella today, did you, girl?” An old voice called out from the stall she inadvertently stumbled across.

  “Yes,” she gave a polite smile to the wrinkled man behind the desk. “I didn’t see the rain coming this morning.”

  “Ai, it always does sneak up on us. You must be new around here! It rains every other day it feels like, though maybe that’s just my poor memory speaking,” the old man chuckled to himself. “Say girl, where do you hail from?”

  Mentioning either the North or the Sworn Sword would be a bad idea, so instead, “I’m not from anywhere around here, just a small village you wouldn’t have heard of,” was all Ji-eun said.

  The old man didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he smiled wide, crooked teeth shining through.

  “Ah! Came to the big city chasing dreams, did you? Reminds me of my youth,” he reached behind him and began stirring a pot of oil, scooping out little balls of dough that Ji-eun had been pointedly trying to ignore. “Here, free of charge.”

  “Are you sure?’

  “A young thing like you has to eat to stay healthy! And on a day like today, something hot will only go down easier.”

  Ji-eun hesitated. Was this some sort of trick? She slumped slightly and almost hit herself. Another bad habit she’d have to work on. The Sect and all its politics were behind her.

  “Then, thank you. What’s your name?”

  “Wang Mian, of Wang Mian’s Emperor Puffs.”

  Ji-eun idly wondered if Wang Mian had opened a shop selling dough products purely based on his name, but she didn’t voice her questions aloud. Instead, studied the still steaming ‘Emperor Puffs’.

  Each was a ball small enough to fit several comfortably in her palm. They were the colour of melted sugar, a deep brown, and smelt amazing. A circular inscription of the characters Wang (王 / King) and Mian (面 / Dough) were pressed into the ‘face’ of every ball like golden script. They smelt amazing. Ji-eun bit down through the centre of one. Crunchy fried dough gave way to a gooey, custardy centre, a fluffy texture in between. It was piping hot; almost too hot. Without her new constitution, Ji-eun would have burnt herself.

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  “These are amazing,” she managed through a mouthful.

  “It’s my own secret recipe. Been working on it for nearly 60 years now!”

  For Ji-eun, who had eaten not much of anything sweet (or well seasoned) for the past year, these were divine. It was probably blasphemy to call these Emperor Puffs, but in that moment, Ji-eun fully believed the Emperor himself would excuse it.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find a job, Mr. Wang?” Ji-eun asked after another bite.

  “Sorry girl, I’m not hiring,” he said with a smile. “But, the Ministry of Commerce usually has job listings inside their main office near the city centre. I’m not sure if the branch ones keep up to date records anymore.”

  Ji-eun held back a groan.

  “You don’t know of anybody that’s after an extra worker right now?”

  Wang Mian scratched at his chin in thought.

  “No, can’t say I do. I mostly keep to myself these days. But, if I hear anything and see you around, I’ll let you know. What’s your name, girl?”

  “Ji-eun.”

  “Ji-eun. Hmm, sounds foreign. Well, I’ll keep my ears to the ground for you Ji-eun. Heaven’s luck on your searches.”

  She left with a bow, slightly confused whether she should take his words as a blessing or a curse now. Bag of Emperor Puffs in hand, she stuck to the awnings and avoided the rain, weaving through crowds who were doing the same.

  Another decision was in front of her: visit the Ministry of Commerce, or try her luck elsewhere? Somebody in a city as big as Cloudrest had to be hiring. The trouble was just going to be finding them. Trusting Wang Mian, the Ministry would cut out the search; it made sense that those looking for new employee’s would post job offers directly to the Ministry in charge of their administration. But Ji-eun was trying to avoid the Empire, and she had reason to believe her name was already well known.

  Shit. Should she have gave it to Wang Mian so carelessly? The Empire was large. Her name couldn’t be that unique, no matter how foreign it was. Regardless, she was technically on the run, so keeping her name out of any official record books was the smart thing to do. She’d have to avoid the Ministry of Commerce and search on foot.

  But there was another option available to her: the runners. Ji-eun had the distinct impression they weren’t an official business. Maybe they operated more like a Sect. If Ji-eun hid her Demonic origins, pretended to be a Cultivator like any other, she’d have a much easier time blending in. One cultivator amongst many. Her plan from the start was centred around blending in with the masses. So, which mass was safer: the larger mundane one, or the smaller cultivator one?

  What was more dangerous: the weight of the Empire, or a band of unregulated cultivators?

  Ji-eun continued to walk as she ruminated on her best choice. Neither was guaranteed to work out, one way or another, but even just approaching put herself at risk. The Ministry of Commerce likely had ways to detect cultivators, and the runners were full of them, qi sense and all.

  But mortals, average run of the mill mortals like those surrounding her, had no qi sense. That fact was obvious. Of course they didn’t, otherwise the whole crowd would be reacting to her. She was already hiding the fact she was a Demon. Why not just hide the fact she was a cultivator entirely? It’d probably make job searching easier, if the bus driver was to be believed.

  In front of an inviting storefront, Ji-eun stopped and peered in. It was a noodle bar. Ji-eun could cook. And even if she couldn’t cook noodles, she was confident she could learn. Average, mortal Ji-eun stepped into the premise looking for work.

  —

  Thirty seven.

  Thirty seven different businesses took one look at her and turned her away. She tried restaurants. She tried snack bars. She tried actual bars. Hell, she even tried a blacksmith tucked away in a back alley. All had dismissed her, or shuffled her off with a “sorry, we’re not hiring.” At least none of them had shooed her off for being a cultivator.

  In the time of her fruitless search, the sky had shrugged off day and slumped into late evening. Ji-eun was captivated by the shifting, waning light that played against the tall glass buildings spearing the air. Orange, pink and blue peeked through gaps in the now slowly receding clouds. Ji-eun was surprised the city hadn’t flooded from all the rain. Dew drops clung to concrete as small streams lined the gutters and ran through tram tracks.

  Most businesses were closed up for the day as Ji-eun passed by. Her search was over for the day, and she didn’t have a place to sleep. Oh well, the climate in the city was much more agreeable than the biting frost up North. Sleeping under the stars down here would be pleasant in comparison. It was more of what she knew, but the thought was disappointing all the same. Ji-eun had hoped to leave that chapter behind when she joined the Sworn Sword Sect.

  She trudged down the street and wove through the still thick crowd. Up a flight of stairs, across a foyer, until she came to a long ledge in the middle of the city. It came out of nowhere. One minute, she was walking down a street. The next, she was overlooking an entire lower district from up high, as though she stood on a roof covering an entire city. Maybe that was exactly where she was. A river ran through the district underneath the platform, though it was likely just a diversion of the actual river running through the city. Out far in the distance was the setting sun, lowering itself behind towering buildings and rolling hills. A slow breeze blew through the empty air. For a moment, Ji-eun wished she had a canvas, or at least a scroll to capture the scene. It was a strange place to stand. In one direction, she could look down on buildings more than a dozen stories tall. When she turned around, she could stare up at skyscrapers that towered above, their tops hidden in the clouds.

  Ji-eun continued walking. The sun hid itself behind the horizon as the moon rose in its place. Obscured as it was behind cloud, the pale streetlights were much appreciated. Slowly the streets emptied out as crowds gathered in restaurants and bars. Lively sounds came from every street she passed, looking for a secluded corner to rest for the night. But not too secluded. She was a cultivator now, but habit — hard learned lessons, more like — was hard to break.

  After another turn, Ji-eun found herself drawn towards a particularly bright light. Hanging in a shop window was a large vertical wall scroll. Written in perfect calligraphy was an advertisement: “Cloudrest Courtly Characters.” The store was still open. Ji-eun hesitated for a moment, before pushing open the door. A chime resounded as the distinct smell of ink, old and new, surrounded her.