Later that morning, Kael found himself standing at the fringe of the outer sect's sparring arena, a circular stone courtyard ringed by wooden spectator benches. Here, disciples often dueled to hone their skills or settle grudges. Today, a small crowd had gathered, cheering and jeering as two combatants exchanged blows in the center. The sharp cracks of Qi-empowered strikes echoed in the air.
Kael's eyes weren't on the fight, however – they were scanning the sidelines, looking for a particular opportunity. Near one of the pavilion pillars, he spotted a heavy-set senior disciple jangling a coin pouch and whispering to another. The man's name was Jin Bao, and he had a reputation for facilitating bets among the outer court. Gambling wasn't explicitly condoned by the sect, but it was an open secret that many disciples wagered on sparring outcomes for a chance at extra resources. Jin Bao, ever the enterprising bookie, was happy to play middleman – for a cut of the profits, of course.
Kael approached just as the current match ended. One fighter – a bruised youth groaning on the ground – yielded, and the other pumped his fist in victory. A smattering of cheers (and a few curses from those who lost wagers) rose from the onlookers. Jin Bao rubbed his hands together, settling payouts for that round.
Before the next bout could start, Kael slipped a few feet closer to the bookie. "Senior Brother Jin," he said in a low, respectful tone.
Jin Bao looked up, small dark eyes gleaming with avarice. "Ah, Kael, isn't it? Here to try your luck?" The older disciple had a slick grin. He likely remembered Kael as the quiet one who often watched spars but rarely participated.
Kael offered a mild smile. "Something like that."
Jin Bao's gaze drifted to the pouch at Kael's belt. "Monthly stipend day… Let me guess, you want to turn those resources into more? You're not alone, kid. Odds are up for the next match. Who are you betting on?"
Kael glanced at the makeshift ring. Two new challengers were stepping forward to face off. On the left was Bran Solvine, a broad-shouldered young man sporting a cocky smirk and cracking his knuckles. Kael recognized him instantly – Bran was the self-proclaimed top dog of the outer sect, a thug who loved flaunting his strength. Kael still remembered how Bran had practically stolen a pill during the last trial. Across from Bran now stood a much smaller disciple Kael didn't know by name – a nervous-looking boy who could not have been more than sixteen, gripping a wooden training sword with sweaty hands. He looked utterly outclassed.
It wasn't even a question who would win; the outcome was written in the dust by Bran's boots. The crowd's excited chatter made the odds clear too – Bran was heavily favored.
Jin Bao chuckled, following Kael's gaze. "Bran versus some new kid from the last intake. Poor bastard." The bookie shook his head as he unfurled a betting ledger. "Odds are 1:5 in Bran's favor. Hardly worth betting on him – you'd make scraps. The underdog's at 10:1 if you're feeling truly generous to donate your money." He smirked at his own joke.
Kael's heart thumped, not with fear or excitement, but with calculated intent. Donate my money… that's one way to put it. He reached down and untied his pouch. "I'd like to place a bet," he said calmly.
Jin Bao's grin widened. "Sure. How much on Bran?"
Kael shook his head. "Not on Bran. On the other guy. The one likely to lose."
The bookie blinked, momentarily caught off-guard. "...All of it," Kael added, hefting the pouch meaningfully.
Around them, a few nearby disciples overheard and turned in surprise. "Is he serious?" someone muttered.
"All of it? On that scrawny newbie against Bran?" another snickered under his breath. "Has Kael gone mad?"
Jin Bao raised an eyebrow. He wasn't one to question a customer's foolish decisions – foolish bets lined his pockets, after all – but even he had to confirm. "You want to bet your entire stipend on little Wei Jun over there? You know he's almost guaranteed to lose, right?"
Kael responded with an easy shrug, masking his true thoughts behind a façade of nonchalance. "I have a… good feeling about him," he lied breezily. "Beginner's luck, perhaps."
A burly disciple in earshot let out a harsh laugh. "Beginner's luck won't save him from a beating. Bran's at Qi Gathering seventh level. That kid's barely Qi Gathering third, if that."
Kael pretended not to hear the remark. He poured out the contents of his pouch into his palm and showed Jin Bao. "100 low-grade spirit stones, five Body Tempering Pills, one Qi Circulation Pill." The small crowd around them actually gasped – it wasn't common to see someone wager all their precious pills and stones like that. Kael's stomach fluttered with nerves despite his outward calm. This looked like reckless abandon… which, in a sense, it was. But he reminded himself: To gain big, I have to lose big – willingly.
Jin Bao's eyes gleamed at the haul. He quickly recovered from his surprise and gave Kael a thin, sharp grin. "Very well. I'll take those off your hands." He swept the stones and pill bottle into a large lockbox by his feet and scribbled in his ledger. "At 10:1 odds, if by some miracle Wei Jun wins, you'll get tenfold back." He chuckled, clearly not expecting to part with anything. "Best of luck, junior."
"Thanks," Kael said, managing a faint smile as he stepped back into the crowd. He could feel the puzzled stares and hear whispers following him:
> "Has he lost his mind?"
> "He's just throwing it all away…"
> "Maybe he got tricked or something?"
[...]
Kael tapped the [Quality] selection. "Give me something good," he whispered.
The screen flashed and dissolved. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the air before Kael shimmered with golden light. He reached out instinctively, and objects began to materialize, dropping into his cupped hands with a series of soft clinks.
When the light cleared, Kael's eyes widened at the pile now sitting in his palms. Spirit stones – but unlike the cloudy white low-grade stones he'd sacrificed, these were a lustrous pale blue. He counted quickly: 15 mid-grade spirit stones, each one roughly equal in energy to a hundred of the low-grade kind, and far more pure. Nestled atop them was a small jade bottle engraved with flowing silver script.