by Wong, Tao
In a change of routine, Wu Ying was making his way to the Elders’ residences to take one of his infrequent lessons on apothecary. His study of apothecary had been set aside ever since Fa Yuan had returned with his Master. As much as he desired to progress in the occupation, Wu Ying did not have the time to devote himself to the matter.
Still, to ensure his skills did not deteriorate, he chose to take private lessons with his favorite senior—Liu Tsong. Rather than take public classes, the private lessons allowed Wu Ying to continue learning at his own pace and his own schedule.
Furthermore, Liu Tsong was able to adjust her lessons such that she provided him theoretical instruction that aided him in his development as a Gatherer. In turn, as payment, Wu Ying searched for the ingredients Senior Li required for her studies. It was, to Wu Ying’s amusement, the start of what his Master had called the beneficial relationships of a Spirit Gatherer.
As Elder Wei’s senior disciple, Liu Tsong had taken over her residence during Elder Wei’s secluded cultivation. She cleaned, cared for, and used her Master’s cauldrons and apothecarist lab, tasks that the servants and outer sect members could not be trusted with.
Ever since the expedition, Elder Wei had not been seen, spending her time readying herself for ascension to the Nascent Soul stage. Her period of secluded cultivation could last a year or ten or a century. The time period needed truly depended on how much chi she managed to accumulate and if she was certain she had achieved a suitable understanding of the Dao she would build her Nascent Soul around.
It was the last that stymied so many cultivators.
Doubt about one’s understanding, uncertainty, and fear—all could kill just as easily as a sword’s blade. Calming one’s mind, firming one’s resolve, it was not a matter that one could put a timeline upon. And all too often, cultivators failed. For the Heavens were jealous of their prestige and desired not to share it.
Footsteps pounding against bare rock sent Wu Ying flying up the hill, passing by cultivators with each breath. With each exhale, he expelled aspected and untouched chi. With each inhale, he brought in new chi to be churned through his body. Each moment, he drove chi through his feet into the paving stones.
Each motion created a puff of wind, a quick gust that picked up leaves and set passing cultivators’ clothing fluttering. Combining his own aspected chi and the environmental chi allowed him to influence the world around him. It was what made the Twelve Gales such a powerful movement technique. Expelling chi through one’s feet, through one’s body to lighten it all the time would have been exhausting for those not in the Core cultivation stage if it relied solely on one’s own chi. But by borrowing the environmental chi, weaving one’s own energy through it, even Energy Storage cultivators could lighten their footsteps.
Of course, the process of weaving one’s chi into unaspected chi was akin to weaving silk while moving, each breath, each footstep a new skein and a new chance to make a mistake. It was why Wu Ying’s feet occasionally impacted the ground with greater force, making his footsteps play out the uncoordinated drumbeat of a distracted musician.
And if the failure stung, it also did not matter. For each breath of air, each passing Elder that Wu Ying bowed to as he ran past, was just another step, just another moment, as he progressed his understanding of the cultivation exercise.
Finally, he came to the end of his run, slowing before the barred gates of Elder Wei’s residence. Wu Ying stopped in front of the building, brushing himself down and grimacing as he swept aside droplets of rain. Once more, he considered purchasing new robes that would shed the rain, keeping him dry in such light weather. Then he dismissed it. Again.
He had an extra set of robes in his storage ring. Cheaper, faster, and simpler to change into new, dry clothing than to waste tens of contribution points on nicer clothing. He had better things to do with his points, and so long as he had access to free laundry, there was no reason to waste funds.
Even if, occasionally, he got wet.
Pushing aside those thoughts, Wu Ying rapped on the door and smiled at the servant who let him in. In short order, Wu Ying was guided to a changing room where he discarded his wet clothing, leaving it for the servants to dry, and put on his spare robes. As he belted the middle sash, securing it tightly around his body, Wu Ying took a moment to admire himself in the provided mirror.
His long hair tied up in a high knot and wrapped around his head had not come loose in the rain. Black, just like his eyes, set a contrast to his skin, deeply tanned from hours spent working the fields, tramping through woods in search of herbs, and training in the martial arenas. Even as he progressed his cultivation, it seemed he would never gain that pale, ideal beauty of a noble and a gentleman. He ran a finger and thumb along the side of his slender jaw, touching the stubble on his chin, and made note to shave again tomorrow. He kept forgetting, never needing to do it often.
Wu Ying shifted slightly to study his profile. Long hours of exercise, often with added weights, had not added much bulk to his body. The advantages of cultivation and an already muscular form. He’d always had wideset shoulders in comparison to most noblemen and gentleman scholars. After all, they’d only practiced the martial weapons. Wu Ying had had to carry wood, lift stone, shift grain bags, and build dykes all his life.
After a moment’s more consideration, Wu Ying could only shrug. In the end, he cared more about his actual strength than how he looked. If he was no ideal beauty, he was still acceptable. After all, at least one young lady had thought him good-looking.
At that, Wu Ying’s placid and admiring demeanor fell. A flash of pain and regret rose, twisting his face into a grimace. Wu Ying missed her, his ex-girlfriend. Li Yao. They had not done much as a couple. Fought together, went on an expedition or two. But then, they had broken up. By his choice—and hers in a way.
Since then, he had not seen much of her. Li Yao had spent much of her time running assignments for the Sect or in secluded training. Only occasionally would Wu Ying catch a glimpse of her, and she would often hurry away.
Sometimes, Wu Ying would wander by her residence, late at night after his studies. He’d stop, stare, and then, finally, move on. Some paths, some fates, were not meant to be.
***
Class was held in the privacy of Elder Wei’s residence, in a separate building with reinforced, enchanted walls and specially designed airflow. The design and the formations inset into the building created a minor, but noticeable, breeze that spiraled the smoke and other pollutants into the air, keeping the room itself mostly clear. It was a safeguard against poisonous and other potentially toxic by-products of experimentation and production.
In this particular case, Wu Ying and Liu Tsong were mostly working with non-toxic specimens. In fact, there were few reasons for them to be in this room, other than the practical access to the various cauldrons and storage materials within. The methods to verify age, freshness, and potency of herbs and other spiritual materials used required burning, dissolving, crushing, and mixing the materials. That often meant a large number of containers, mortars and pestles, and chopping boards were used. A well-stocked apothecarist workstation had all such equipment on hand.
As class was over, Wu Ying was cleansing the cauldrons and jade mortars, washing them with soap mixed with cleansing Sage Grass and drying them. The water had to be repeatedly replaced from the correct water barrel, each barrel containing water from different springs. Even in the process of cleansing the equipment, the appropriate water and cleaning materials were required.
Bending back, Wu Ying let his gaze traipse over the room. In the center, dominating the room, was the main apothecarist cauldron, this one with multiple vents and nearly eight feet wide. Made of imperial gold, inset with jade and emerald gems, the cauldron was a Saint level artifact. The first that Wu Ying had ever laid eyes on. Carvings of dragons and phoenixes played across the cauldron cover and sides, while enchanted cores were embedded in the eyes and mouths of the figurines. Inside the cauldr
on, Wu Ying knew, lay another layer of enchanted Spirit cores, all powering runic script that helped the apothecarist work with volatile, poisonous, and chi infused materials.
Next to the primary cauldron was a smaller, three-foot-diameter cauldron. This cauldron was made of beaten steel, beautiful in its simplicity. There were two vents in this cauldron, its top perfectly fitted to seal in all vapor until it was ready for release. This was the cauldron they used when Wu Ying actually undertook practical lessons. This cauldron was Liu Tsong’s prize possession, and unlike her smaller, hardier travel equipment, it never left the Sect.
At each of the room’s four cardinal points, the four entrance doors stood closed. Jade inlays on the insides of the doors helped seal the room while handcrafted metal locks ensured their privacy. All four doors, each carved from a single piece of wood, had metal reinforced barriers and was inscribed with jade and gold. Each was barred from the inside, with small wooden flaps at the bottom raised or lowered to control airflow as necessary.
Where the doors were not, along the walls of the building were closed-faced cupboards, all of which contained specimens in glass, stone, or jade jars. Most were carefully tended and checked over on a regular basis by Liu Tsong, ensuring potency and freshness. When they degraded, they would be replaced, the material transferred to Liu Tsong for her use. In this way, the Senior apothecarist would produce pills or concoctions from the materials, improving her own practice and providing for the Sect at the same time.
It was because of this largess that Liu Tsong’s ability as an apothecarist was growing by leaps and bounds in the absence of her Master. If her own senior brothers and sisters had been present in the Sect, they would have taken on this advantageous task. However, of the three Senior apothecarist who studied under Elder Wei, one was in closeted meditation. One had left the Sect entirely for the last two decades, setting up his own shop to cater to the nobles and rich merchants after his failure to progress in his immortal cultivation. And the last was on an expedition, wandering the lands and seeking inspiration for his own dao.
“Pink dangshen is highly prized while purple should be stored in black stone. Black dangshen should be discarded,” Wu Ying muttered to himself as he worked. “Be careful, verify potency against nearby plants for the Yellow Creeping Ivy of Liang can alter the potency of the dangshen. Regular price, generally by the catty, is seven taels.”
“Good,” Liu Tsong said, overhearing Wu Ying’s mutterings as she put away the last of the ingredients in one of the cupboards. She then took the time to secure it, pulling the split metal padlock key from the padlock and checking that the doors were secure. A slight fluctuation in the ambient chi told Wu Ying that she had stored the key with the rest of her belongings in her spirit ring. “Pay attention to the number of petals on the dangshen as well. The preference is for three and five. Sorting beforehand will likely garner you a higher price per catty, since otherwise—”
“Some poor outer sect member will have to do it,” Wu Ying said in unison with Liu Tsong. They broke into wide grins, sharing the inside joke.
“Yes. You’re learning fast, though your actual concocting technique is still miserable to watch,” Liu Tsong said as she walked back through the room, dodging the myriad wooden and stone tables set in the room. The tables were positioned throughout the room, surrounding the main cauldron, not only for efficiency’s sake but also to aid the flow of chi. It thus made travel through the room somewhat more haphazard than a straight line.
“Nothing to be done about it.” Wu Ying sighed. “There’s so much to learn, and little time to do it in.”
Liu Tsong shook her head. “You rush, rush, rush from one cultivation level to another. One technique to the next. It is less than ideal. Cultivation is a multi-decade endeavor, not this headlong rush.”
Wu Ying could only offer his Senior a shrug. It was not as if he wanted to be rushing, feeling harried all the time. It was just the Heavens choosing to harry him with events.
“Have you considered my Senior’s request further?” Wu Ying asked, changing the subject.
“To join the expedition?” Liu Tsong flashed Wu Ying a smile before she shrugged. “I have. I also know that my Master would feel obligated to help. But I have my duties here. If I left, it would leave my Master vulnerable and her workshop unattended. Doing so would also be leaving the Sect with one fewer high-level apothecarist on hand.”
Wu Ying grimaced. She was correct, especially in the lack of apothecarists. While Elder Wei was not the only apothecarist elder, she was the highest level one. And as such, the standards of her students were generally better. With the ongoing war drawing down the Sect’s stores of healing and replenishment pills, they desperately needed all the high-level apothecarists they could get. No number of low-level apothecarists could replace a single high-level one and the pills they could make.
“But if we could get you, the pill… it’ll be more effective if made immediately.”
Liu Tsong shook her head. “I’m not my Master, Wu Ying. I cannot just eye the environment, the flow of chi within a terrain, and make adjustments as I concoct a high-level pill. I need to take careful measurements, ensure the flow of chi around me is taken into account, even set up talismans and enchantments to ensure it stabilizes, to even consider such an attempt. And even then, I would likely fail at the production.” She gestured around the room. “This room is perfectly managed. The flow of chi here is a stable constant at all times and completely known to me. Even then, I’ve failed making Saint class pills, like the one you requested, nine out of ten times. And on the tenth? It was barely considered a pass.”
Wu Ying offered his friend a guilty smile as he’d forced her to admit her weakness. “Still…”
“I doubt your Senior would be willing to risk my failure,” Liu Tsong said. “I’m sure she is making other arrangements. At the worst, she can always work with Elder Tan when she returns.”
Wu Ying winced. If Elder Wei was irascible and prone to outbursts, at least she was reliable. Elder Tan, on the other hand, was as prone to blow off prior obligations as she was to cook up a batch of high-level pills in a fortnight. She was well-known to work when inspiration struck her and only then.
“It’ll be fine,” Liu Tsong assured Wu Ying. “Elder Tan isn’t as unreliable as you think.”
Wu Ying raised an eyebrow, having finished cleaning all the implements. He dried his hands on a nearby towel, setting the washcloth aside while he waited for Liu Tsong’s answer to his silent query. When she just gave him a strange grin, he decided not to push further. Even in the privacy of this room, certain opinions should not be said out loud, especially by those in the same profession.
Wu Ying could only sigh and hope that his Senior had a better option.
***
Later that evening, he related his conversation with Liu Tsong to Fa Yuan, and she offered him a single nod of acknowledgment.
“Unfortunately, it is all too common these days for apothecarists to refuse to go on expeditions.” Fa Yuan sighed. She glanced around the library, then raised a hand to send her chi into the air and block the sound of her next words from those around. “Ever since the great purges, the Guild has slowly discouraged its members from taking part. While there are anomalies, the small number of apothecarists has seen them elevate their overall importance in our society.”
Wu Ying rubbed his chin, tracing fingers over the growing stubble. He knew little of the history she spoke of. About a hundred thirty years ago, a series of purges across the various kingdoms had been enacted, almost all in unison. The formation of the Apothecarist Guild in the wake of the purges had seen the rise in importance of the secondary occupation while streamlining their studies and the guild itself.
“Why did the purges happen?” Wu Ying asked.
“Before the purges, apothecarists were not legislated. Anyone could work as one. There were numerous charlatans, conmen, and fools, all of whom regularly took advantage of others. This was just the way
it was, and buying pills back then was much more dangerous.” Liu Tsong pursed her lips as she recalled the matter. “That all changed when the dark sects took advantage of the chaos. They plied the kingdoms with a large number of false apothecarists, at first providing pills and potions that gave a boost to cultivation speeds and level. Unlike many of the pills and concoctions others sold, these worked.”
Wu Ying frowned. Her words seemed harmless enough, but anything to do with the dark sects never was.
“It took nearly two decades before the whispers grew to a cacophony that could not be ignored,” Liu Tsong said.
“Whispers?”
“Yes. Of cultivations that had stalled, of meridians damaged. Cores, corrupted. Some even lost their way on their dao paths, growing angry and twisted.” She paused, eyeing Wu Ying before she continued in a rush. “Much of this period is in our historical records. Though few read about it these days. Most apothecarists do not like discussing this period. They think it is a bad mark against their occupation and not a warning against dark sects.”
Wu Ying shivered, looking about the bright, open room of the library. Once again, the mention of the dark sects, like stories of ghosts and demons told to frighten children. Amoral cultivators, walking a dao path of anger, corruption, and evil. Who sought not even just vengeance but petty revenge, the deaths of others in pain and torture to advance themselves.
The Dao was myriad, it was plentiful, and it encompassed all things. From the growing of plants on a hot summer day to the bitterest winter nights when rats ate their children to survive the long cold. This too was the Dao.
And because the Dao encompassed all, but humanity was limited, there were darker paths, things that the demons and the human mind sought. Paths of pain and envy, jealousy and anger. Things that were done in wars and behind closed doors, that saw minds warped and lives destroyed.