by Tao Wong
A wide grin broke across the Elder’s face. Her cane flicked up from the ground and swiftly approached Wu Ying’s face. The cane came to an abrupt halt before dipping to tap him on the shoulder. “Smart boy. Just be careful. Those who are too smart can get hurt. Come.”
Wu Ying rushed to follow the stooped woman, and together, they made their way from the visiting room he had been deposited in past the inner courtyard to the back of the residence. Wu Ying found it amusing to see that throughout the house, numerous pots of plants resided, scattered about as if they had been tossed there. But working on instinct, Wu Ying studied the plants and their locations before he sensed there was a method to their placement. What it was, he could not ascertain, but he grew increasingly certain the haphazard placements were not as random as they seemed at first sight.
“Seen enough?” Elder Li’s scornful voice broke Wu Ying’s concentration. He flushed, opening his mouth to apologize, before Elder Li cut in. “What did you learn?”
“Not much, Elder. I know the placement is not random, but I cannot understand the reasoning,” Wu Ying admitted.
When he finished speaking, he received a smack on his leg from the cane, one that stung as badly as a full-blown kick from Senior Ge. “Of course not. You’re barely an inner sect member. Stop paying attention to things outside of your experience and focus on what is important.”
Elder Li proceeded to exit the building through its back door. Outside, the pair were able to see the full extent of the Elder’s gardens and the greenhouse resting next to it.
“You start work here today. Ru Ping will show you to your workspace and teach you what you need to know.”
“Elder, I do not—”
“A properly cared for Night Blossom in excellent health would garner around a thousand contribution points.”
Wu Ying’s snapped his mouth shut.
“Of course, from the state of the Night Blossoms you brought in, they probably were never more than average to begin with. Worth three hundred contribution points or so,” Elder Li continued. “Still. A fortune to an inner sect member like you, no?”
Wu Ying nodded dumbly.
“You should also consider the fact that I have already informed Elder Hsu you have chosen to work with me. He was quite unhappy when I told him so. He said, and I quote, ‘He was just getting decent.’ I understand your latest bonus will not be coming,” Elder Li continued.
Wu Ying winced, anger sparking at the woman’s high-handed tactics.
“I’ve also informed the assignment hall to refuse to allow you any further assignments until I say so. Elder Pang was quite happy to accede to my request.”
Wu Ying had angered Elder Pang by defeating his sponsored choice, Yin Xue, last year. For a moment, Wu Ying wondered how the man was doing as an outer sect member before he discarded the erroneous thought. He had his own troubles here. “Why, Elder Li?”
“Youngsters do not know what is best for them. It is up to us Elders to make sure they choose the right path.” Elder Li turned her head to look at Wu Ying. “Studying to be a pill refiner might be your eventual path, but have you considered what would happen if you have no talent for the practice? There is no pill scent on you, so I doubt you have touched a pill cauldron.”
Wu Ying shook his head. In truth, he was not sure it was the path he wanted to take. As Elder Li pointed out, he had yet to even touch a pill cauldron. That was why he was working in the blacksmith guild too, learning the basics of forging. Though Wu Ying was making mundane items at the moment, since he had little practical experience to draw upon. He had many more hours left before he could be expected to produce anything useable.
“Who do you think gets pills first? The martial specialist who protects the pill refiner, the blacksmith who can only trade his goods, or the harvester who supplied the refiner?” Elder Li asked. “Our skills might not be well known or highly lauded, but they are necessary and in demand.”
Wu Ying nodded, accepting her words. It was not as if Elder Li had given him much choice in joining her.
Seeing her opponent defeated, Elder Li pointed toward where Ru Ping worked in the fields. The laborer was shorter than Wu Ying and fatter, having kept a layer of pudge even through all the cultivation. Once Wu Ying spotted Ru Ping, Elder Li walked away without another word.
“Junior Long Wu Ying greets Senior,” Wu Ying said as he arrived before the portly harvester.
“You are the new recruit?” Ru Ping straightened his back, looking over Wu Ying. “Poor choice in clothing.”
“I did not expect to be working here today,” Wu Ying admitted.
“Elder Li does have a tendency to assert herself,” Ru Ping said. “You may call me Ru Ping. We don’t bother with all that Senior or Junior nonsense.”
Wu Ying dipped his head in agreement, though he felt uncomfortable with the notion. Still, he offered Ru Ping a half-smile. “What is it you need me to do?”
“You’ve worked fields before, correct?” Ru Ping said. “The way you crossed the grounds showed your background. For one, you didn’t trample over everything as you walked.”
“Have people done that?” Wu Ying said in surprise.
“Oh, yes. Why do you think Elder Li took us?” Ru Ping said. “What’s your background?”
“Rice farmer.”
“Mine too,” Ru Ping said, nodding happily. “Not many of us in the sect. But that’s neither here nor there. It’ll be good to show a man around. Most of our workers are women who dabbled in gardening before. But there are some things men are better at.”
Wu Ying felt a deep dread forming at Ru Ping’s words. In short order, he found that his intuition was correct as Ru Ping brought him before piles of compost.
“We need the first, second, and sixth piles turned. Leave the third and fourth piles alone; they’re cooking. And the fifth we need to add more manure to first,” Ru Ping said, clapping Wu Ying on the shoulder. “Once you’re done, there’s a book inside the box in the tree. You should study up on the plants we grow on the seventh to tenth piles.”
Wu Ying glanced over the numbered piles. While the smell of the compost piles was muted, showing they were extremely well cared for, he saw the steam coming off the piles as the compost broke down the refuse. The heat from the decomposing compost piles helped in this case, allowing the gardeners to grow plants that would not be otherwise viable in this cold weather. Of course, Wu Ying wondered why they did not use the greenhouse, but he was certain the book would provide the answer.
Hours later, Wu Ying had turned the compost piles, including the newly refreshed fifth pile, and was upwind, reading the provided book. It was a fascinating book, listing all the plants currently growing and many more which were not present. The book itself was structured different from the Principles, focused as it was not so much on the uses or an index of plants but on the assessment, observation, and care of the flora. There was even a section for the proper transportation methods for each listed plant.
Reading the book provided Wu Ying an understanding of why these plants were grown out in the open instead of being in the greenhouse. Being dual-souled plants, each plant needed both the yang heat gained from the piles and fresh sunlight and the yin chi of death from decomposition. The greenhouse, on the other, hand was pure yang heat from the sunlight, providing none of the necessary yin chi to allow these plants to grow.
As he read and later, when he was directed to help clear a ditch, Wu Ying found himself, for the first time in a long time, content and comfortable. Out here, among the plants, Wu Ying had a form of expertise that was valued. Perhaps the Elder was not so wrong after all.
Chapter 12
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
As Wu Ying breathed, he felt the chi twisting in his dantian. He pushed against it, feeling the way the chi struggled to escape, to find a new level. He had been gathering his chi for some time─weeks of careful progress. He was nearly ready─so close to achieving a b
reakthrough.
Eyes half-open, Wu Ying picked up the Lesser Bone Marrow Pill he had traded precious sect contribution points for and popped it into his mouth. A dry-mouthed swallow later and the pill was in his stomach, dissolving and releasing the chi contained within. Wu Ying’s eyes opened even as he clamped down hard on his aura.
Each pulse of energy from the pill he swept into his dantian, trying to contain as much of it as possible as it overflowed his dantian and meridians, breaking through the porous barrier of his aura membrane and escaping with each breath. For all the waste, Wu Ying still managed to grasp and contain some of the chi. As the pill released its contents into his body, Wu Ying felt the growing pressure in his lower dantian, the way it struggled to contain the increasing flow. And yet Wu Ying refused to allow his chi a release. Not yet.
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 Gao 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 Gao 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 Gao 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 Gao 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 Gao 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 Gao 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 Gao 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 Gao 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 Gao 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 cultiv
ating.
But. What Elder Gao 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 Gao said, having read Wu Ying like a scroll. “It matters not. Finish the class. But consider what I have said. For you are”—Elder Gao 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 Gao 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 Gao was right. Perhaps being a blacksmith was not his calling.
Wu Ying looked at the sweat-stained back of Bao Cang working away at his forge with focused intensity and sighed. He certainly did not have Bao Cang’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.