by Tao Wong
Not yet.
Wu Ying felt a spike of pain go through him as an unexpected surge from the pill disrupted his careful collection of chi. He shuddered, the rampant chi running through his body as he tried to contain it. By the time he was done, his dantian felt even more fragile and Wu Ying found himself coughing. Wiping the blood from the lips, Wu Ying grumbled mentally. It was a mid-grade pill, but even so, the release was not as smooth as it could be. The assimilation process was not going as smoothly as Wu Ying desired, and a thread of fear ran through him as he considered how much longer he could hold.
As his dantian creaked again, threatening to break apart, Wu Ying finally released his hold on the chi within it. Wu Ying quickly pushed the released chi into his meridians, sending it along the previously opened meridians first to ensure they were fully cleansed before he directed the remainder at his tenth meridian. Pain coursed through his body as the chi flooded the constrained and filthy meridian, cleansing and scouring it clear. Wu Ying felt the corruption get carried away through his body to be deposited on his skin and also to his kidneys, where it was filtered out and pushed into his bladder.
Wu Ying breathed, forcing air in and out of his body as he cultivated, borrowing the power of the spirit pill to push for the next level. Hours passed before the chi surge from the pill finally died down and Wu Ying stood, his body rank and filthy. But beneath the dirty skin, he glowed with happiness. His successful ascension and reinforcement had carried him to a new level of strength.
Two more meridians to cleanse, then he would finally be able to progress toward gathering enough chi to cleanse his first Energy Storage meridian. Of course, that step would be much more difficult since the amount of chi required was so much higher. Storing so much chi in one’s dantian was dangerous and required the slow broadening of the dantian, as well as compacting the gathered chi to ensure it fit.
But that was a concern for another day. Today, Wu Ying needed to clean himself and make it to blacksmithing class. As he stood, Wu Ying stretched and eyed the glimmers of sunlight peeking over the top of his roof. As the sun moved to rise earlier, Wu Ying could not help but note winter was nearly over.
***
“You’re late.”
“My apologies, Elder Gan. I was cultivating,” Wu Ying said.
The Elder regarded Wu Ying, eyes narrowing in consideration. “You have opened another meridian?”
“Yes.”
“Your aura suppression needs work. You are leaking again.”
“Yes, Elder.”
“Get to forge six.”
Wu Ying took off to the forge. By his side, Bao Cong, his former partner, was already working at his own forge. The pair shared a quick nod of greeting, the persistent and loud clanging around them foiling any attempts at conversation. Over the past few months, the pair had thawed their initially frosty relationship to something almost cordial. It helped, in Wu Ying’s opinion, that Bao Cong cared less for Wu Ying’s background and more for his attempts at improving. As for Bao Cong, Wu Ying found the noble decent and even, on occasion, helpful. For a noble.
As Wu Ying finished shoveling coal into his furnace and turned to the bellows, the cultivator could not help but contemplate what it would be like to make something other than mundane tools. There were only so many asps, horseshoes, pots, and rakes one could do before one became bored with the work. Over the last few months, quite a few of the beginners had given up on blacksmithing as they realized Elder Gan would not allow them to move on to anything more interesting—like weapons—without meeting his minimum standards. That the class considered his minimum standards absurdly high went without saying, but there was absolutely no give in the Elder’s opinion.
Which was why Wu Ying was back in class once again, getting ready to work on another set of… A glance at the order sheet provided to him made Wu Ying sigh. Door hinges. Not exactly difficult to make but exacting. Still, better than horseshoes.
Hours passed as Wu Ying hammered out hinge after hinge. Even though a simple mold created the basics of the hinges, Wu Ying still had to pour the molten iron into the molds, let the iron cool, then extract the hinges before cooling, cleaning, and creating the gaps. Once he had a large enough batch ready, he would shift to the work of making sure the pieces fit together.
The work was exacting, and learning to hit the metal at the right angle rather than just whaling upon it was important. A couple of times, Elder Gan arrived and showed him how to adjust his hammering method to make it more efficient or point out Wu Ying’s unnoticed flaws. Most often, Elder Gan would mutter that Wu Ying should think thrice before hitting once, before leaving Wu Ying alone to figure out his mistakes. In the end, the hours of practice were what he needed, not any esoteric technique.
When Wu Ying was finally done with the initial orders on his list, hours had flown by. As Wu Ying banked his furnace before grabbing a warm lunch, he could not help but feel somewhat proud of his latest work. They were a long way from masterwork, but a significant improvement over the scrap metal he had created at the start. A long guzzle of water later, Wu Ying was slurping down hot noodles when Elder Gan made his appearance, a familiar set of hinges in his hand.
“Elder,” Wu Ying said, standing and wiping his face.
“Wu Ying. This is your first decent hinge,” Elder Gan said, idly playing with the work. “It took you two and a half months to make something acceptable.”
Wu Ying stayed silent, unsure of how to respond. Was it good? Bad? He had no context.
“Do you know why I have you working beside Bao Cong every class?” Elder Gan said.
“No, Elder.”
“It’s because Bao Cong has a future as a blacksmith.” Left unsaid was that Wu Ying did not. “He has the gift, the touch to do so. You are nothing more than average.”
“Does everyone have to be a genius?” Wu Ying said grumpily.
“No. You can struggle on, become a blacksmith. In a few years, you could make decent mortal weapons. Maybe a decade from now, you would be able to craft spirit-level weapons,” Elder Gan said, continuing to flex the hinge between his fingers. “But eventually, you will hit your limits. Maybe at high-tier spirit. Maybe even saint-level. But you will never have enough time or ability to make immortal-level weaponry.”
Wu Ying shook his head, trying to find the gap in the logic. “Few are ever able to make immortal-grade weaponry. Even blacksmiths who make high-tier saint equipment are unusual.”
“Are you a true immortal cultivator or merely passing through life?” Elder Gan said. “A supporting occupation for a true cultivator is not something you dabble in for money or fun. It is part of their dao. It is what contributes to their climb to immortality. A supporting occupation that you cannot progress to at least saint tier is nothing more than a hindrance.”
Wu Ying opened his mouth then shut it. Elder Gan was mostly correct, though Wu Ying also mulishly disagreed. Mostly because there were no certainties in the path to immortality. The journey was a thousand li long and each path was different, with stops and diversions galore. Sometimes those diversions led to immortality via cultivation. Sometimes those diversions led to the peaches of immortality, skipping all the hard work of cultivating.
But. What Elder Gan said was the most commonly held belief. To argue against it, especially as a new inner sect member, would be disrespectful. Instead, Wu Ying kept his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself.
“You disagree,” Elder Gan said, having read Wu Ying like a scroll. “It matters not. Finish the class. But consider what I have said. For you are”—Elder Gan flexed the hinge one last time, the overstressed metal parting with a ping—“still far from competent.”
Wu Ying caught the tossed pieces as Elder Gan left, staring at the broken hinges he had worked so hard to create. Lips pressed tight, Wu Ying stared at the broken metal before he placed it aside to add to the scrap pile. Perhaps Elder Gan was right. Perhaps being a blacksmith was not his calling.
Wu Ying looked at t
he sweat-stained back of Bao Cong working away at his forge with focused intensity and sighed. He certainly did not have Bao Cong’s passion for metal. It was too dead, too simple for Wu Ying’s tastes. And, Wu Ying had to admit, it was way too hot in the forges. Though now that Wu Ying had cooled down, he was beginning to shiver from the sweat that had collected on his body.
After drinking another cup of water, Wu Ying stood and headed back inside. Whatever the decision, Wu Ying still had to put in the hours to finish today’s job.
***
“Before you are five different pill cauldrons,” Liu Tsong said, gesturing toward the cauldrons that had been placed on the stage.
Everyone had seen them when they streamed in, and more than a few students had milled around the edges of the stage to stare at the metal strangers. The cauldrons ranged from a small, pot-sized pill cauldron that could easily be carried when traveling to a massive cauldron so wide Wu Ying would not be able to place his arms around it.
Size was not the sole differing factor. The smallest cauldron was the simplest in design, looking much like a cooking pot a housewife would use, but the cauldron was thicker than normal pots and had a heavier base. However, beyond those minor differences, it looked similar to an actual iron cooking pot, even coming with a simple black lid. The other cauldrons were obviously made of different, more exotic material, with some having secondary vents along the sides, which could be closed off, or heavier lids to keep heat and steam trapped. The cauldrons all had a variety of sheens: dark steel, green, grey, silver, and white running through their materials. The metals or alloys were unknown to Wu Ying, a mark of their rarity and the difficulty in working with the alloys. Wu Ying knew many metals were compounded with both demon stones and the body parts of spirit creatures to give them more strength. It was the kind of technique and material use that differentiated spirit-tier and mortal-tier blacksmithing.
“At the farthest end from me, we have a mortal-tier pill cauldron. For many of you, this is what you will work with for the majority of your first few years.” Liu Tsong tapped the cauldron. “Listen.” Again, she tapped the cauldron with her metal-tipped finger. She moved around the cauldron, tapping it at different locations, the noise changing subtly as she hit different areas. “This is how you tell the quality and the weaknesses of your cauldron. For masters, this will be all they need to do, for they can hear the subtleties and differences in a cauldron.
“You are not masters.”
Liu Tsong glared at the students, many shifting uncomfortably under her gaze.
Having forcefully headed off future foolishness, Liu Tsong continued. “This cauldron, and four others of similar quality, are available for rental from the apothecary guild. Each rental is available for a maximum of one week. It is recommended many of you begin renting and attempting the most basic of pill recipes we have passed to you with each of the five cauldrons. Inspecting and working with different cauldrons will gift you the experience you need to begin understanding their differences.
“As a mortal-tier pill recipe, the Twilight Ashen Blood pill can be created with minimal instruction and training. For those of you who do not have any experience with pill refining, for your first couple of attempts, we recommend you request an instructor from the apothecary hall. This will ensure you learn the basics of refining and waste the minimum number of resources.”
When Liu Tsong saw there were no questions, she walked around the cauldron once more, tapping on it for everyone to hear.
When she had done this circuit three times, she said, “Keeping in mind what you have heard, here are the flaws and how to spot them.”
Liu Tsong shifted her position to point at a small discoloration on the outside of the pot. She raised her voice as she traced the extent of the discoloration, explaining details of the cauldron’s flaw as well as its specific characteristics.
***
Hours later, Wu Ying sighed at the pile of notes he had scribbled during the lesson. Even having received Liu Tsong’s advice to purchase and read a manual on pill cauldrons beforehand, he’d still found himself making copious notes. Maybe half of those notes were on things that were covered in the manual which Wu Ying had forgotten. The other half were things not mentioned or mentioned in passing but not clearly explained.
This time around, Wu Ying had seen a large number of students desperately scribbling notes. Those other students had been caught out by the sudden shift in topics and were desperately attempting to catch up. It was no surprise, as the class had spent the last few months going over herbs in exhaustive detail. Wu Ying almost regretted that they were no longer discussing plants, since his newfound employment with Elder Li benefitted him greatly. The information Liu Tsong provided reinforced the information Wu Ying was learning while working the garden, and vice versa.
But Wu Ying had to admit he was somewhat excited to get his hands on a pill cauldron and begin refining. As Elder Li had pointed out, he had yet to even try his hand at the actual work of a pill refiner. It was about time for him to start, if for no other reason than to ensure that he was not a complete failure.
When Wu Ying finally returned to his house after class, he was not surprised to find Liu Tsong waiting for him, enjoying a cup of tea and some almond cookies in his reception room. While Liu Tsong’s post-lecture visits had decreased after the first few weeks, each time she introduced a new topic, the cultivator had sought out Wu Ying. In some ways, Wu Ying deeply admired Liu Tsong’s dedication to being a good teacher. Having experienced a number of other random seminars through the months, Wu Ying could confidently say it was a rare attribute. In a few cases, Wu Ying had walked out of the inner sect seminars more confused than he had been before he entered. Some Elders or their disciples were just not suited to teaching.
“How did I do?” Liu Tsong asked, looking at the vast array of notes in Wu Ying’s hands. Her lips pursed for a second, but Wu Ying found it impossible to read her visage. Was she happy or upset he took a lot of notes?
“Good. I understood most of what you spoke of. But it’d help if we had a chance to view the cauldrons up close,” Wu Ying said.
“Har! And let you all lay your grubby hands on my Master’s cauldron?” Liu Tsong said. “Not a chance. I had to beg her for a week before she’d let me showcase her cauldron. And that was her sixth-best one too!”
“Sixth?” Wu Ying said, remembering the gleaming golden cauldron at the end. It had been so large it was possible to get a full dozen pills from it, according to Liu Tsong. Of course, the reason why it was so large was due to the need to burn down, concentrate, and form the pills from a myriad number of herbs. At the level Liu Tsong’s Master worked, the ingredients lists were as long as Wu Ying’s arm.
“Yes, sixth. If I do well, she’s promised to let me use her fifth-best cauldron,” Liu Tsong said, her sudden smile nearly splitting her face.
“I did want to ask about the multiple cauldrons. You mentioned in passing how, sometimes, you would not want to use the best-grade cauldron possible?” Wu Ying said.
“Well, there’re a few reasons. Most dramatically, cauldron destruction,” Liu Tsong said. “If you’re working on a new pill formula, bad interactions between the yin, yang, and elemental energies of various herbs can result in the cauldron breaking.”
“Oh, that’d be expensive.”
“Dangerous too,” Liu Tsong added. “But that’s the most dramatic reason. More often, it’s because of less explosive elemental interactions. Think of each cauldron as having been seasoned by previous concoctions. While we do our best to clean the cauldron, there are always traces. You want those traces. An unseasoned cauldron is a pitiful object with no spiritual residue behind it. But the residue can also affect the final outcome of certain formulae.”
Wu Ying nodded and quickly jotted down her words. It made sense to him, the same way his mother had complained when her decades-old wok had cracked one evening. She had been forced to replace it with a new wok, and for the next six months, meals
hadn’t tasted right. It was after the wok had been properly seasoned that food tasted better again. Since pill refining was an exacting process, it made even further sense how the previous formulations in a cauldron could affect the final outcome of the pills.
“Thank you,” Wu Ying said. “I have a few other questions…”
“Of course you do,” Liu Tsong said with a glint in her eyes. “As do I. But no questions till we get more almond cookies!”
Wu Ying coughed but signaled Ah Yee. Once the cookies had been deposited, he turned to Liu Tsong, only to be interrupted.
“I saw a lot of you frowning when I was explaining the difference between the second and eighth type of vents. Why was that?”
An hour and a half later, the pair finally concluded their discussion about Liu Tsong’s lecture. At that point, Wu Ying had a chance to ask his final question. “Will you be my teacher?”
“For your initial pill refining?” Liu Tsong watched as Wu Ying bobbed his head. She paused, obviously deeply considering her answer. “We can try.”
“Try?”
“Not all teachers and students are compatible. While you are a decent academic student, the practice of pill refinement is exacting,” Liu Tsong said. “I have some experience teaching others, but… well. I might not be the teacher for you.”
Wu Ying smiled at her answer. “I’d still be honored, Senior Li.”
“Sweet-talker.”
***
Wu Ying walked around the pill cauldron, inspecting the chest-high metal vessel with his fingers, listening and touching. Due to his delay, all five rental cauldrons had been taken out, leaving Wu Ying to rent one of the many public use cauldrons for his lesson with Liu Tsong. It meant the cauldron was much larger than what he required, but at this point, he had little choice. At least the mortal-tier pill formula he was using would be scarcely affected by the other pills concocted in this cauldron. The pill formula was so low-tier, minor changes in the elemental energies would make little difference. It was when one went to produce higher-tier pills that such care was required.