Maksym Pachesiuk
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Moon Cultivation [Book 2] - Chapter 116: Dead Men Talk
🕑 Added 2025-07-30 23:36:00 +0000 UTC"Hi, Luca," I said.
Luca Benedetti tensed immediately.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Jake Sullivan — third place in the last tournament."
Benedetti tensed even more.
"And what do you want?"
"Give up your dealer," I told him.
He flinched and tried to sidestep me. Unfortunately for him, I already knew his dealer’s name. All I actually needed was a bit of blood.
The ambush had been set up so that we were alone in the corridor, and it wasn’t just demons who knew how to play games with record tampering. I could have skipped the talk entirely — punched him, drawn blood, and walked away. But I needed to justify it, at least a little to myself, if no one else. And I had to make sure he knew who I was, so he wouldn’t get it into his head to fight back.
Feeling like a cheap thug in a third-rate story, I stepped in his path.
"You really think you stand a chance against me?" I asked.
"Man," he raised his hands, "I... I think you’ve got the wrong guy."
I punched him in the face.
No techniques. No qi. Just my fist, raw strength, and his skull. In case his qi-sense was anywhere near as sharp as mine.
He didn’t sense a thing. Didn’t see it coming. Cartilage snapped sideways, and blood sprayed instantly across his lips.
"What the fuck, man?! Why did you do that?"
He didn’t dare say anything else.
That was good enough for me.
Next up was Yuki Tanaka. Not only had we never crossed paths before, but the fact that she was a girl added a whole other layer of discomfort.
Looked like today I’d be saying goodbye to the last scraps of gentlemanly behaviour. Gentlemen don’t break ladies’ noses.
I cornered Yuki in another empty hallway, just like the one with the guy. Finding them was a lot easier when the Hall of Order had your back and an entire team was handling logistics.
"Hi, ..." I started. But the prepared speech caught in my throat.
In person, Yuki was even smaller than in the photos. Fragile. She looked more like a child than a fighter.
Ah, hell. One more word and I’d lose the nerve completely.
I punched her in the face.
She dropped like a felled tree.
“Alright, maybe go a bit easier!” Johansson said in my ear, watching everything through the surveillance feed and keeping in contact via interface. “You’ll end up killing someone at this rate.”
I leaned over the girl to check her pulse.
“She’s fine!” Johansson barked. “Get out of there!”
Andres Holmvik was next. He didn’t take kindly to the broken nose and tried to stab me with a pin. Sounds ridiculous, but he was a Point cultivator and had a dozen more pins hidden in the sleeve of his jumpsuit.
He was the first one who actually made me use a technique. Chain Punch dropped him on the second hit. As weak as it was against armour, it worked wonderfully on soft targets.
Holmvik was the last cadet I had to rough up, but there was one more person I needed to meet. And unlike the others, I wanted to punch this one.
The problem was, he was in the late stage two. If it came to an actual fight, I’d be the one eating the floor, and that’s assuming it ended so easy.
On the bright side, during this conversation, I was allowed to be as smug and arrogant as I could.
The opportunity to meet this cadet didn’t come until late in the day. Almost evening. Johansson claimed that the delay helped support the story — we weren’t rushing to arrest him, but first interrogating his customers.
To me, the cover story was paper-thin, and the delay felt pointless. But I understood the logic behind it. It wasn’t about legitimacy.
Novak wanted to catch a demon. The enforcer of the local ‘cartel’ was 99.9% likely to be one. And a failed dealer would make a fine piece of bait.
And who else would make excellent bait?
A certain overly involved first-year who kept turning up in places he wasn’t supposed to be and ruining demon plans left and right.
Novak was just increasing the odds. Or diversifying assets, if you prefer. If I didn’t attract the hit, the dealer would. If the dealer failed, it’d be me.
That’s why it was some scruffy freshman sent to speak with Esposito, not someone of the third or fourth stage. Well, technically someone at third was sent with me, but not to talk. Just to break things if needed.
That someone was Liang Shi.
I had no idea how much he’d been told about all these shenanigans. He hadn’t been around for any of the more candid conversations with Johansson.
Anyway, around half-past five, Liang Shi and I stepped into Marco’s.
He carried a classic jian. The hilt and scabbard were crafted from some deep green material, etched with fine silver designs. From the pommel hung a red silk tassel, threaded with a few crystal beads and a coin with a square hole through the centre. Past the coin, the cord unravelled into a delicate fringe of single threads. It all looked very elegant, almost ceremonial, but inside the scabbard was an absurdly sharp and durable piece of steel.
The cafe was about half full — which, for this quiet and expensive place, basically counted as rush hour. I figured it was the view. Through the panoramic window, you could see a stretch of Earth to the left, the pale blue shimmer of Tarassa hanging near the centre above one of the dome-covered training grounds, and the grim outline of Valcast, where one of the largest volcanoes just happened to be erupting.
Even I might’ve stopped for a cup of coffee, given a view like that. Esposito had used it to lure in another second-year girl. The dealer was on a date.
Liang Shi and I split up as we entered.
He went straight to the thinhor behind the counter, to tell him not to interfere, while I made for Esposito.
He’d picked a table for two, the kind with big, deep chairs that didn’t move much. I had to drag over a smaller one from nearby. It wasn’t exactly feather-light. Its legs scraped along the tiled floor with a grating squeal that cut right through the jazz playing in the background, and most of the cafe turned to look at me.
The closer I got to Esposito’s table, the more surprise crept onto his face.
Finally, I slid the chair into place, sat down, and said, “Hello, Esposito.”
The dealer tilted his head.
“Who the hell are you, and why are you so smug?”
“Today, I represent the Hall of Order,” I said, jerking a thumb over my shoulder, where Liang Shi stood. “Our boss thought this would be more fun.”
The mention of Order made the girl visibly tense. Too good a target to pass up. I turned to her directly.
“Did you know your boyfriend deals in illegal substances?”
I made sure at least a few nearby tables could hear that.
“What evidence?” Esposito asked, ignoring me and focusing on Liang Shi behind me. “Order’s not exactly got the cleanest reputation lately. I hear you lot push people to suicide.”
I laughed — loud, sharp, unhinged. Like some mad villain out of a comic book. That made him frown and glance at me again.
“You have no idea!” I said once the laughter stopped choking me. “I personally drove one guy to the edge. The prick tried to frame me for bribery, ended up expelled, and tried to slit his wrists in the shower with a shard of glass.
“The best part? I was one of the people who stopped him.
“But you weren’t talking about him. You meant your colleague. No one saved him, unfortunately. And as for you... well, I’m not sure anyone will save you either.
“I’d suggest talking. Might take some weight off your chest. Clear your head. Maybe help those suicidal thoughts pass you by.”
“You threatening me, you little shit?” he snapped, throwing a look at Liang Shi.
“Let’s skip the theatrics. Your bosses took out your colleague after just one screw-up. You, on the other hand, were careless enough that we’ve already picked up Benedetti, Tanaka, and Holmvik.”
Esposito went pale.
“A very telling reaction for someone completely uninvolved in criminal activity,” I said, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Here’s the deal. We’re not going to touch you. You’re not even going to be charged with anything.”
I stood, winked at his date, and added, “You should probably dump him. He’ll be hanging himself soon anyway.”
That snapped Esposito out of his trance.
“What? The hell is this? You think that’ll make me talk?”
“No,” I admitted truthfully. “You’re more useful to us dead. The next dealer will be more cooperative.” Close enough to the truth.
“Get lost,” he barked at the girl.
“What?” she blinked.
“Fuck off!” he snapped. Then turned to Liang Shi. “Enough of this circus. Sit down. Let’s talk.”
Liang Shi shook his head. “I’m just the muscle.”
“Then get someone who can make decisions!” Esposito barked. “You’ll still need another dealer after this, and I’m ready to talk — if we make a deal.”
That was unexpected. And I’ve got to give the guy credit — talking like that to a third-stage cultivator while only at late second? That takes iron bollocks.
I dropped back into my chair.
“Marco, a latte and a slice of strawberry cheesecake.” Then to Esposito, tapping my temple lightly, “He’s listening.”
Johansson had been with me the whole time.
Esposito nodded.
“I want to be pushed through to third stage. I’ve already got a full set for the breakthrough and I’m this close.” He held up his fingers with barely a millimetre between them. “One seven-hundred qi crystal will tip the balance. After that, send me to Earth, give me a few years in colony detention, but no more than five. In return, I’ll give you the name of the one who brought me into this business.
“You should probably decide quickly,” he added, giving the cafe a casual look around. Aside from the jazz still playing over the speakers, the whole place had gone deathly quiet. “You know who I work for. My direct boss might decide to off himself too.”
Johansson stayed silent.
So I did too.
Marco brought me my latte and cheesecake.
“No crystal,” Johansson finally said. “We’ll run him through the Flow Chambers intense instead.”
I passed it on.
“The more time, the more chance…” Esposito ran a thumb across his throat.
The hair on my neck stood on end. I saw Esposito’s eyes go wide.
Danger was coming from the window.
I moved. In an instant: the crack of glass, the flash of my shield, the clang of metal and shattering crockery. So many things happened at once that my brain couldn’t keep up.
I hit the floor, just as Liang Shi’s sword moved again. The steel rang out as he knocked away three thick needles.
He rushed the window, where a dense spiderweb of cracks had formed. At its centre: a cluster of puncture holes. The cafe’s air was being sucked out through the holes, lost to Verdys’s thin atmosphere.
While running, Liang Shi hurled the largest chair he could grab at the window. The glass, though shattered, held. He slashed it in a cross-cut, extended his arm, and burst through with a dash technique, sword first.
We were on the twentieth floor. Can he fly?
No time for questions. The atmospheric pressure equalised instantly. Oxygen levels dropped sharply.
I lunged toward Esposito.
Too late.
He was dead. A thick needle had pierced clean through his skull, splattering blood and brain matter across the floor, the next table, and finally embedding itself deep into the wall.
Comments
Jonathan Griffith
Tyftc!
