26-28

Chapter 26: Cultivation of a Scumbag

When Booker returned to his room, he saw a quest had completed.

Quest: Sponsorship

Goal: Impress and befriend a ranking member of the Mantis Sect

Reward: 1 Hour Practice Token.

I guess Greenmoon thinks he's got me in his pocket.

But another practice token…

That's worth an incredible amount. I'll have to be carefully thinking of how to spend it.

And by the time he lay down, resting his weary body, two new ones had appeared in his journal, replacing Sponsorship and the quest to cure Wild Swan.

Quest: Conquer the Stone

Goal: Break 1 (0/1) of the practice stones used by the cultivators to test their strength.

Reward: Karmic Pill

Quest: Recover the Hospital Deed

The hospital's land rights have been lost on a wager at the Pearl Gambling House. Recover them.

Reward: Master Page

In addition, there were the remaining quests in his ledger he'd yet to complete. The time was ticking on so many of them…

Quest: Repairing Your Life

Goal: Create a Seven-Times Purified Charcoal Pill and use it to repair your poisoned body.

Reward: Materials Box

Quest: Break the Thread

Goal: End Zheng Bai's Influence Over You

Reward: Materials Box.

Quest: A Birthright Recovered

Goal: Reclaim Rain's heritage amulet at the auction in 6 days.

Reward: Materials Box.

Quest: Right the Wrong

Goal: Hunt the Murderer Behind the Boy in the Wall.

Reward: Materials Box.

Quest: Wondrous Healing

Goal: Create a pill with a potency above 25%, a toxicity below 5%, and the Moderate or Great Healing property.

Reward: Materials Box.

Quest: Purification of the Body.

Goal: Eat nothing but spiritual food for 7 (5/7) days.

Reward: 10-Hour Practice Token.

Tomorrow… He promised himself… I'll work on you all tomorrow…

— — —

The next day, Booker was given a workshop of his own.

It was a clean room, all the furniture made of polished cedar, the scent of pine thick in the air. There was a single stone cauldron shaped like a bowl with a brass lid and a scowling mouth where the fire was stoked, sitting on three legs.

There were workbenches, all manner of tools, and shelves loaded high with basic alchemical materials.

It was heaven.

Greenmoon smiled as he presented it, noting the small details in the implements. "See here? The alembics are made from the clearest glass. You could use one as a lens. And the detail work on the crucibles– you truly cannot fault our craftsmen here in the Sect."

"I've often admired their work." Booker admitted, picking up a knife and running his finger feather-light over the edge. It was sharp.

And those materials on the shelves.

Imagine what I can do with them.

"Well, no sense giving you this whole workshop and nobody to work in it." Greenmoon clapped his hands. The door swung open and Sprout filed in, looking like he was walking into a lion's den.

Sprout bowed to Booker without meeting his eye. "Junior brother Wei Qi greets elder brother."

Hmm. It's going to be hard working with him after Hu Bao's death…

To Greenmoon's other apprentices, it doesn't matter that Hu Bao tried to kill me first – they knew him, and that's what counts.

"Thank you, Wei Qi." Was all he said.

"Now, of course, this is a gift that comes with expectations." Greenmoon explained. "Chiefly the completion of this refinement technique."

And Wei Qi is no doubt here to spy on me in addition to being my assistant. Making sure I'm really working towards that goal.

"Naturally." Booker agreed. "None of my earlier experiments passed muster, but I'm sure with this laboratory I'll be able to manage." If anything, I should be worried. What will this refinement technique do to the Mantis Sect? It's a league beyond anything they have. Perhaps leagues beyond anything our neighbors have.

"In that case…" Greenmoon said. "I'd like to see a demonstration. Perhaps even offer a little direction."

"I'll have to set up the equipment." Booker quickly deflected. "By tomorrow I can show you what I was doing."

"Tomorrow? Excellent. I'll leave you to it." Greenmoon swept out of the room, pausing in the doorway to add, "Great expectations are riding on this. Your career in the Sect could be decided by this moment."

And then the door shut behind him.

Booker glanced to Wei Qi, who had moved to a workbench and begun checking the tools, sharpening knives and setting things in order. His movements were purely mechanical.

Yeah…

I've got a long way to go making friends with him.

"Have you heard the rumors about Wild Swan?" Booker tried casually.

"I heard he was out of hospital. Something about a masked man." Wei Qi's voice was sullen, only lifting at the end, when he turned to face Booker. "Why?"

"Just curious." Booker replied, noting the frosty reception. "What kind of weirdo runs around wearing a mask?"

"Hmph." Wei Qi snorted. "Anyone who wants to do good around here better be wearing a mask."

He's not wrong.

But Booker moved on, reaching to take a jar down from the shelf. "What did Instructor Greenmoon tell you about what we were doing?"

"That you'd stolen a technique from your previous master, and we're deciphering it."

Ouch. Okay, note to self – this lie doesn't paint me in a good light to anyone who isn't as self-serving as Greenmoon. Especially because my old master, rightly, has the reputation of a saint.

"Mhm." Booker replied, tight-lipped. "We'll be setting up the equipment today, and trying our first tests tomorrow. I'll be giving you some free time while I work on parts I don't want to reveal just yet."

"Instructor Greenmoon told me to stick close to you." Wei Qi replied, emphasizing the name, as if he wanted to establish who exactly he worked for.

"I see." Fuck, well, serves me right – now I'm under constant watch. How do I navigate this…

If they're watching me every waking hour, I've got to make some unwaking hours available.

Nine-Leaf Foxglove, Dried Seahorse Tail, Scorpion Poison Gland… I have all the ingredients here for a sleep replacement pill, and since they think I need to use their furnace to make pills, they won't suspect I've secretly made these.

That should give me six or seven hours every night where I'm not being watched.

He stood for a moment, looking over the shelves with a finger on his chin. They hadn't given him anything truly valuable, but a well-stocked kitchen with basic ingredients. That was enough. There were literally hundreds of pills he could make.

Of course, they can't notice I've taken any. That's easy enough to fix. I'll just make sure all the ingredients I need are scheduled to be used in refinement testing, and since they'll all be turned to ash, it'll be impossible to say how much really went into the furnace.

Yeah. Now I'm thinking like a cultivator.

I was too cavalier before. But there are old dragons in this Sect who have survived dozens of ambitious young snakes like me. I should probably…

I should probably actually start stealing herbs and medicines I don't need, and cutting Greenmoon in for a share. That way I'm the normal amount of corrupt and not drawing attention like I would if I was squeaky clean.

Steal to conceal your stealing. The cultivator way.

"Wei Qi, you'll be keeping logs of all the ingredients we use, right?"

"Yes."

"They didn't bring us any sticky lotus thread." Booker said, taking the bottle of sticky lotus thread off the shelf and putting it into his pocket. "Make sure to write that down."

"... Yes sir." Wei Qi said, turning away.

Shame. I finally meet someone with solid morals, and I have to act like a dirtbag in front of them. I don't think there's any way I can stay on his good side and Greenmoon's. But I guess he got along with Greenmoon, so it's not like he isn't able to make his peace with a dirty situation.

"Here, take this." Booker produced a coin pouch of fifty liang and put it on the workbench. "I'll need you to buy some herbs for me now and then. This should cover it."

Wei Qi stayed mute, but Booker heard the coins scrape across the counter through the thin velvet as he picked up the payment.

Internally, Booker sighed…

The sooner he fought his way out of this corner the sooner he could… try to find his way back to the straight and narrow.

Book. I need a solution here.

Usually you give me the best possible techniques. Now I need a terrible technique, but one that fulfills three criteria. It can be used by a non-cultivator, without a furnace, to refine earth-element ingredients.

The book's pages flipped open.

Someday, I'd like some quiet time to really explore these pages. To discover the history and true nature of alchemy. For now, I'm using it like a caveman taking a work of art and using it to wipe his ass.

I hope it isn't sapient enough to mind…

Whether or not the book minded, its pages landed on a solution.

Salt-Lye Purification Rituals

A refinement ritual of laborious difficulty that can be performed on Earth-aligned ingredients by non-cultivators. Best understood as a primitive antecedent of modern techniques.

Bind rock salt in a bamboo tube and cook at high temperatures.

When the bamboo is completely reduced to ash and the salt has become solid, take the tube of ashen salt and lay it on a bed of pine wood.

Light the pinewood and let it burn down to embers and ash.

Begin a steady drumbeat. When the drum sounds its tenth beat, strike the salt with a rock hammer. Strike again every ten beats, continuing until no part of the salt is larger than a fine grain. This should take roughly one thousand strikes and ten thousand drumbeats.

Mix the salt with the ash and bind together by pouring in a mixture of molten fat and butter.

While the caustic soap formed by this mixture is cooling, place the refinemental materials in a bowl, and pour the cooling mixture over the refinement materials.

Place the bowl upside down and pour cold water over it to cool it.

When it is solid, chip away the soap carefully, as it will absorb moisture from anything it touches.

The ingredients should be refined.

If done correctly, material will be refined with a 0-30% success rate. The success rate depends on how well the beat is kept, the purity of the wood, and the spiritual density of the fat and butter. For best results use human fat and butter.

Booker grimaced. I'm keeping that last part to myself.

"We'll need salt, butter, bamboo, and lard from the kitchen. Pine wood too. A drum, and a rock hammer. You'll have to get those last three from the craftsmen. Before, I used a kiln I made myself. Today, we'll use the furnace."

"I heard you could do this technique without cultivation or a furnace." Wei Qi said, slowly "Is that true?"

"Yes, it was… designed so even a cripple could use it."

"Cripples? Huh. Nevermind just the cripples. Anyone could use this." He jotted down the ingredients with a feather quill. "You could have half the city refining by the end of the week."

"Would you?" Booker asked. "The Sect seems to keep this stuff close and leashed. I imagine they have some reason."

"Hah." Wei Qi said, hollow-voiced. "They just enjoy lording it over the common people, don't they? C'mon. You've noticed how they treat cripples, at least. That's not how you treat people you see as your duty to care for…" He looked up at Booker, some emotion coming into his voice at last.

But Booker's face was cold.

Is he really reaching out, is the thing… Or is this part of his duties, spying for Greenmoon?

Greenmoon takes students who are like him. Manipulators. Profiteers.

I don't want to say for sure Sprout is one of them… but he's smart, at the very least, if Greenmoon took him for talent.

Too smart to show a rebellious streak like this so easily.

"The life of a cripple has plenty of privileges." Booker noted airily, keeping himself distinctly aloft and above companionable chatter about their shared elders. But he tried to soften it a little, adding, "You must have family in the city, I'm betting. It's genuinely impressive to make it through the entrance exams from that background."

"It was… yeah, it was hard." Wei Qi smiled slightly. "My father used to slosh ice cold water over me if I was a second late out of bed. He'd set a pin in a candlestick, and if I wasn't awake by the time that pin dropped, WHAM–" He slapped his hands together. "– he'd have me up and shivering. But that meant he was always awake an hour before the pin dropped."

Booker smiled at the description. No wonder Wei Qi had an attitude towards him – Rain's position had been bought while Wei Qi's father pushed him his entire life to reach this one goal. It must be infuriating, to watch people be born to the finish line.

"I see. You can be sure that if we finish this together, we'll enjoy the rewards together." He promised. Its a simple persona: wealth-focused, but generous. You can like a person like that, even if they're not particularly honest otherwise. That's my best shot at balancing between pleasing Wei Qi and Greenmoon.

"Thank you. What amounts do we need, for the ingredients?" Wei Qi asked. Judging by a softening in his sullen tone, Booker felt like he'd threaded the needle on his lie.

And how natural lying has become…

"As much as you can get. We'll be refining all day today and tomorrow, then studying the results, and then refining more." Booker answered. "Just get as much as we can store."

"Alright." Wei Qi headed out the door.

As it swung shut, Booker turned back to the alchemy supplies. He left before doing a full inventory, or reading the one the workers who stocked this place made. He took the slip of carefully-etched bamboo and thought, Furnace.

It burned to nothing.

Then he went to the jars and siphoned off as much as he could from the three he needed for his sleep replacement remedy. Enough to make six or seven pills. Emptying it all into the same jar of sticky lotus string he'd already palmed.

I'm becoming a scumbag… not because I want to, but because I have to, to keep up this lie… but all the same that's not much different from anyone else's excuse.

Maybe it's time to think about escaping for real.

The problem is… with this latest development, if I run away now, they'll think I'm running away with the completed technique to try and sell it to another Sect.

That's a hundred times more important than a cripple simply leaving…

He went over to the workstation, quickly grinding out the dried seahorse and the scorpion glands with a rolling mortar and pestle, then cutting, mashing, and sieving the juice from the nine-leaf foxtail. His hands worked incredibly fast. It's so good to just…

Focus on alchemy.

Forget everything else.

My life would be simple and pure if it was enough to be good at alchemy.

The thought of becoming a cultivator makes my heart fill with pride, makes me feel like a god. But alchemy is simple and tranquil. I don't have to worry about climbing any mountains. Where I am is good enough.

He disposed of the evidence with a flash of Furnace, then molded the finished paste into seven small orbs. Clasping them between his hands – "Furnace."

Blue fire flexed between his fingers, pouring out between his knuckles and curling tongues through the air, before shattering into a blur of distorted air and a drift of blue cinders.

The pills had formed.

He tucked them, still warm, into his pocket. Eight hours a day…

I'll have to wear my mask again whenever I'm outside the Sect. But there's no way to conceal myself well while inside the Sect, so violating the order is safer in the long term.

He moved over to the workbenches.

At the same time…

Even though I've limited my ability to escape from the Sect, I've also made a stable position inside it. I finally have my own workshop. I can test using an actual furnace and see how the results differ from my own magical furnace. It's not impossible that even the kind of cauldrons the Sect has, which the books would probably call shoddy, are better than my magical Furnace.

After all, I don't know the true intent of the technique…

Maybe it was only ever meant to be a backup.

… Book. Tell me about the power I call Furnace.

The pages turned, and he saw an illustration. While the book had illustrations on nearly every page, those were made with a charcoal sketching pencil and only had color when it was necessary to distinguish a specimen, in which case it would be carefully filled into the lines of the sketches with a watercolor brush.

This painting was far more striking and robust. It was a translucent gray imprint of a man holding a watercolor flame of vivid ashen-red, the color of a sunset. The outline of this round flame was detailed in gold leaf with smaller cerulean runes etched on top of the gold. The way the man's shadow seemed to be spreading outwards from the flame, it almost seemed like he was being vaporized or blasted apart by the fire in his hand.

Sacred Technique: Phoenix-Heart Furnace

One must have a reversed soul to use this technique, with a fiery Yin and watery Yang. This technique expresses the Yin of fire, which can mend, bring together, and combine all things.

The phoenix-heart furnace is an alchemist heartfire technique, which grows stronger as it is continuously used to refine a great number of medicines, harvesting their sacred aromas to refine itself while contributing the medley of those aromas to the finished pill. The quantity, quality, and diversity of aromas all contribute exponentially to the final refinement stage of the flame. Thus very small amounts of power from each medicine can multiply to equal a very strong flame. The refinement stage of an alchemist heartfire is the number of distinct colored threads within the flame.

The flame's power can be multiplied by being used through a furnace, but when the technique reaches the ninth stage, it begins to generate a Mirage Furnace that allows it to function totally on its own. As such the ninth-stage is considered the peak stage of this technique, after which it is better to begin working on new techniques.

As a soul technique, the gathered scent that the flame will display after it has been characterized by many uses, is an expression of the bearer's own soul. Particular powers may manifest out of the alchemist heartflame that are unique to the soul that bears it.

One of two sacred techniques contained within this book.

Booker flexed his hand conjured a tiny tongue of the Furnace-flame, sniffing and examining it carefully. There was a faint odor like beeswax…

And no sign at all of additional colors threaded through the flame. It was pure blue.

So I haven't done anywhere near enough alchemy. Actually, no surprise there. This is a top-level technique and is supposed to be supported by access to top-level ingredients. Even with my quests providing me ingredient boxes, to the eyes of whoever created this technique, I'm wallowing in an incredible level of poverty.

But woe is me… I've got the book, and the book is priceless…

I bet if there was a way to force them to pay a fair price, the Sect couldn't buy the book.

I truly can only thank my luck again and again.

"Book, how about Dialyze?"

Sacred Technique: Kirin-Tear Dialyze

One must have a reversed soul to use this technique, with a fiery Yin and watery Yang. This technique expresses the Yang of water, which dissolves, disperses, and purifies all it touches.

The kirin-tear dialyze is an alchemist sourcewater technique, a rare counterpart to heartflame technique. It is used to prepare ingredients to the highest quality, cutting them apart with more delicacy than any knife could hope to match, while scouring away any impurities.

Sourcewater techniques are less common and less researched than heartflame techniques, and Yang sourcewater almost unheard of, but appear to gather strength from exposure to pure water and ice substances, absorbing their natures. Sourcewater, no matter how strong, will never directly harm living matter, but can be used to purify it. Purifying living beings can damage their meridians, and once a Yang sourcewater has absorbed other Yang waters, it becomes possible to cripple an enemy's cultivation with this technique.

One of two sacred techniques contained within this book.

Yang sourcewater, almost unheard of… and this is the book that knows everything…

Purify…

He let a swirling disc of Dialyze form in his hand, rotating, a shining spot moving through its heart as it made drowsy spirals.

I probably shouldn't try to purify myself haphazardly. It sounds possible, but also dangerous. Like I could worsen my situation and further my crippling with a wrong move.

But if I were to absorb some pure Yang water I could have a safe way to disable my opponents, instead of killing them. I know for a fact it's a cruel world to be a cripple in – but I can't see myself killing anyone else. If this much kindness becomes a cruelty… so be it.

He let the water fade.

Maybe there's some way to research the proper way to purify things. Even if it takes a while, I could help other cripples that way…

He went back to the shelves.

One of my quests wants a pill of potency 25% or more, a Toxicity of 5% or less, and a Greater or Moderate Healing quality.

I have… sacred miso paste, mountain-glacier thawed goji berry, emperor lingzhi mushroom. That's a basic body cultivation medicine when you put those together.

Six-flavored fruit. Iron-belly chestnut. That will toughen the entire body.

Flawless peony root. Cloud-touched flying fish roe. Dried mermaid's hair seaweed. These will make the basis of a fine healing pill. But to get it to the required levels, I'll need to add red ginseng.

Flawless Peony Root

Intact // Dull Quality

An herb known to ease and soothe the body. Collected from only the most perfectly white flowers, from petal to roots.

Painkilling 10% (-)

Mental Relief 5% (-)

Toxicity and Potency 10% (-)

Moderate Healing 10% (+)

Cloud-Touched Flying Fish Roe

Intact // Dull Quality

The eggs of an elusive fish that dives above the surface in a flash of opalescent fins. Cannot be caught while below the water, only while above.

Toxicity and Potency 5% (-)

Potency 10% (-)

Swiftness 5% (+)

Potency 5% (-)

Dried Mermaid's Hair Seaweed

Intact // Dull Quality

A long thin seaweed strand, which is known to move of its own accord to drown harvesters. Has secret barbs along each strand which must be carefully removed.

Moderate Healing 10% (-)

Water Breathing (Water)

Potency 5% (-)

Toxicity 10% (-)

Red Ginseng

Intact // Dull Quality

Aged ginseng of a rare medicinal caliber. An all-purpose powerhouse of medicine.

Longevity 0.1% (+)

Potency 5% (-)

Cultivation Boost 10% (+)

Qi Recovery 10% (-)

Each percentage meant, essentially, that the given percent of the pill's total energy would go towards that purpose. So pill of Minor Healing 100% would devote all of its energy, without waste, to healing minor wounds. It could even exceed 100% or have multiple different effects add up past 100%. But even a pill with poor ingredients that might have a high efficiency, 100% or more, that pill would still be limited by how much energy there was to distribute.

Pills with higher ingredients, or more ingredients, naturally have more energy. 5% of a seven-ingredient pill was generally worth more than 15% of a two-ingredient pill.

Potency was simply added to the percentage of all effects. So a Minor Healing 5% and Qi Recovery 10% pill with 10% potency would be 15 and 20% effective.

Toxicity is likewise the portion of the pills energy that's negative. It's harder to calculate, because everyone has different capacities….

But the book seems to be able to handle an objective measurement just fine.

He slid his knife along the seaweed, debarbing it off small, hair-thin spines. It came away with a significant amount of slippery organic slime. That removed the 10% Toxicity.

Next was steeping the flawless peony root to bring its Toxicity and Potency quality down to 5%, so it would cancel out.

Normally this process would take at least an hour, but Booker now knew he had a secret weapon: "Dialyze." A shimmering disc of cool water spun into existence around the flawless peony root, washing away the tiny amounts of dirt left on the root, then cleaning deeper, drawing away dark stains that seemed to materialize on the skin of the root then get pulled out into shreds of black material that slowly dissolved away in the water.

It was over in the blink of an eye, and examination proved it had decreased the Toxicity and Potency by the exact amount he needed.

The final step was a double negative. Two (-)s canceled out, but three flipped back into active.

Three Potency 5% properties, and one 10% boost, without a trace of Toxicity.

Chopping up the peony root and ginseng into translucently-thin slivers and grinding them down quickly with the base of his knife, Booker added the seaweed, dicing it to nothing but a pulp of slimy-wet black. He kept the whole thing on a cloth, which he could quickly wad up and burn once the task was done, leaving the cutting boards below shiny clean.

As he formed the wet pill in his hand, he crossed to the pill furnace and put it inside. Reaching into the mouth of the carved stone face on the furnace, he held his hand where the flame should go and whispered, "Furnace."

Instantly the furnace lit up, glowering with blue flame. The pills began to solidify slowly in the heat, although it was thousands of times faster than any furnace could do alone. Even though the flame was completely apart from the pill itself, heating the pill from below a stone basin, like a flame underneath a cauldron– even so, there was a thin and luminous orb of fire forming around the pill, as raw heat concentrated in around the point of interest. That translucent, electric blue orb shivered and began to stretch upwards and upwards, becoming a comet trail of blue.

It then shrank slowly down and vanished, as the flame below the furnace basin collapsed. Booker felt a sudden wave of ice-cold exhaustion sweep over him. He had pushed the flame farther than ever before – and while his body was running on empty, hungry in a way that made him feel dizzy, hollow, and exhausted.

He reached for the pill and scorched his hand against the still-hot stone, snatching his fingers back with a hiss.

The pain was a blessing. It gave him a moment of adrenaline to push through the mind-numbing level of exhaustion rocking in waves through him. He reached out again and grabbed the pill, letting it scorch his hand as he dropped it into his pocket. He splashed cold water over it in the basin, pressed one of the sleep-replacement pills through his lips and swallowed with a gulp of tooth-chilling spring water. It did nothing.

He slumped into a chair. This is… past exhaustion… some kind of backlash…

The moment he stopped fighting it, he was asleep.

— — —

"Elder Brother! EL-DER BROTHER!"

… some kind of backlash for overusing Furnace!

The thought he'd been sleepily putting together completed suddenly as Booker was jolted out of a deep, dreamless slumber, feeling like he'd closed his eyes and snapped from one moment to the next. Wei Qi was shaking him awake.

"Huh?" Booker slurred out.

"Elder Brother!" Wei Qi stepped back. "Apologies for laying hands on you. When I got back you were unconscious, and barely seemed to be breathing!"

"Huh…" Booker repeated, reaching up and dragging a slimy thread of semi-solid drool off his chin. He wiped it on his robes and said. "Thanks."

Wei Qi gave him a skeptical look. Booker could only imagine what was running through his mind. At best I'm a dead sleeper who takes naps when they're supposed to be working… at worst I'm going to revive Rain's reputation as a drug addict.

He stood up. It was dim through the windows and out the door. "It's… night already?"

"I was away most of the day talking to people to get all we needed." Outside, visible through the open door, there were piled crates of butter in wooden tubs, fat in paper-covered jars, bamboo by the pole, and a huge barrel of salt.

"You got all that?" Booker said, before realizing he was just asking obvious questions. "I mean… Good job on that, Junior Brother. I hope you had someone helping you carry all of it."

"I uh, did most of it on my own."

"Ah…" Briefly feeling guilty, Booker said, "After tomorrow's tests, let's drink together. I'm stuck indoors but I have a few friends here and we could all get to know each other."

Wei Qi dutifully bowed his head. "Of course." But Booker didn't get much sense of enthusiasm.

I'll have to try and charm him when we drink. Or find a way to show him I'm more than self-serving. Hmmm…

For now, he just nodded clumsily and said, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

As they walked different ways down the alley he sighed. Sometimes there are bigger priorities than making yourself liked…

He reached into his pocket and closed his burnt hand around the healing pill. Now that the deep exhaustion he'd felt had faded away, the sleep-replacement pill was working rapidly, and he soon felt alert and sharp-eyed with a fresh mind, as if he'd just slept the perfect sleep.

This can be an ace in the hole. For now…

His stomach grumbled.

Yeah, it's time to get myself back out of starvation, before I collapse again. Time to put on the mask, break out of the Sect, and get that spiritual rice.

Chapter 27: Mysterious Travelers

Quest: Conquer the Stone

Goal: Break 1 (0/1) of the practice stones used by the cultivators to test their strength.

Reward: Karmic Pill

The practice stones sat in a courtyard by themselves, a courtyard where full disciplines would frequently train. Each practice stone was a pillar of granite two feet across and six feet tall. To graduate from the lowest grade of disciple to the next, you had to demonstrate the power to break one of these stones with your fist.

Even at this hour, there were disciples practicing, throwing phantom punches that stopped just before they collided with the pillar's stone surface. Sweat ran down their backs and their eyes were closed in concentration, faint auras of martial intent kindling around them.

I don't have any idea how I'll do that. A berserking pill? But a berserking pill can only bring out the most of your body's strength… At least at my level of alchemy, you can't actually multiply someone's strengths, only bring them out to their fullest extent.

— — —

Breaking out of the Sect was much easier than sneaking in. He simply climbed up a bendy willow tree, let his weight drag him down in an arc towards the wall, and jumped off. He landed on all fours.

They really don't care about keeping me in the Sect…

Standing up, he gazed through the narrow eye-slits of his mask. The city was a sea of lights. Even now, candles were burning in windows, lanterns were being lit on strings over the public streets, cookfires and kilns were sending up greasy columns of smoke into the dusk air, a stain of firelight rooted underneath each climbing column of soot.

The city was different without his Sect robes and his cripple's brand. People didn't hesitate to brush or jostle against him, and he had to adapt to the rhythm of the streets, rather than have it make way for him. There was a rude art to squeezing through people and dodging past others doing the same, or a resilience to holding your own place and walking slowly, like an island.

At night, the rules relaxed. A dozen night markets sprung up, spreading out their goods on woven rugs. People sold jewelry, candles, soaps, incenses, spices, charms of the gods and cultivation books. Everywhere he looked there were sellers calling out their wares, and most of them were selling cheap paper pamphlets or slips of bamboo with supposed cultivation-techniques.

After all, wasn't this the gate of the Mantis Sect? Holy land of cultivation?

For the people of the mountains and valleys, this was as close as they could hope to come to the Mantis Sect. If they could pass the onerous Entrance Exam, they could hope to pass between the massive gates, but until then, they gathered here and waited.

Even at this hour there were people sitting on reed meditation mats kowtowing towards the Sect in hopes their dedication would be noticed. There were people cutting branches into little statues of the guards, and setting them down for children to buy, wooden soldier-men who represented the mighty Mantis Sect.

And where young warriors congregated, there was guaranteed to be drinking. A huge number of public houses and inns served the various strangers who came to do business with the Mantis Sect or seek entrance as disciples, and all of them were serving alcohol at a furious pace.

The fact was, Booker had been out drinking two times, and he'd let himself be completely knocked down both times. The drinking culture of the Mantis Sect was utterly brutal, and being regarded as a man required drinking until you could truly no longer stand, and then fighting your way up to drink again.

Considering the city was stockpiling young and fragile egos like tinder, and dumping high expectations over them like gasoline, was it any wonder there was brawling in the streets?

Ahead of him, a pair of youths crashed through the open doors of a tavern, getting hauled out by a thug. As he threw them down, one grabbed for his sheathed weapon and drew out the sword, a long hiss of steel echoing through the alley.

"You don't wanna do that." The thug smiled, taking out a much smaller knife.

"What are you going to do with that?" The boy demanded. "It's no sword. I am the Blade of the Valley, and you won't disgrace me. Yield! Lest I rip…"

The thug threw the knife cleanly into his gut. The boy made a sound like a hiccup, breath rising and finding itself interrupted by the presence of the knife.

Booker lunged forward and caught him before he fell.

The thug chuckled. "I didn' kill him."

Booker lowered the boy to the ground. "Still… He'll remember this lesson better if he doesn't hit his head."

The boy's companion looked down uncertainty, then reached for the knife. Booker stopped him.

"No, leave the knife in. It's plugging the wound. Take him to the hospital in the Estuary District." Booker said. His voice, as always when he wore the mask, was disguised by an herb he chewed that made his throat unpleasantly stiff and turned his words into a croak.

The companion nodded and lifted the boy onto his shoulder.

The thug glanced at Booker's mask, and asked, "What, you ugly or something?"

"So hideous even the whores make me keep it on." Booker answered.

"Heh." The men stepped back inside, and the small crowd who'd gathered around dispersed, going off into the night.

Booker continued on to the Porkbelly Inn, pushing his way into a restaurant bustling with activity. A waitress brushed past bearing a heavy tray, loaded down with steaming bowls of lobster and prawn stir fried into a sticky slurry of green onions, ginger, and sesame sauce, then piled onto beds of white rice. As he moved through a packed floor and pushed up to the bar, a round-faced man with a damp ragged tossed over his shoulder appeared. "Friend, wine is cheap and friendship is free here. Welcome to my illustrious Porkbelly Inn, where flavor finds itself at home."

"You certainly have a fragrant aroma. I smelled your cooking and had to come in." Booker put an overgenerous five liang on the table and added, "I'm a friend of Gong Zhang. He said you could cook something delicious."

"Ahhh, it's just a little vegetable and rice medley, but we can make it delicious with some pork belly on top."

"No no, listen. It must be made with only the special things Gong Zhang has given you. I'll know if anything is amiss, even one grain. This isn't a threat, but only the truth: I have a very sensitive need for spiritual food. And I'll pay you well any time you can prepare it. Have you heard what happened to Gong Zhang?"

The man nodded. "I heard he was whipped…"

"He's survived, but he won't come around here anymore. Name a fair price for what he left behind."

The man grimaced, and said, "Twenty liang."

Booker said, "Eighteen." and the man nodded. It's better to bargain a little, otherwise he'd think he's given a low starting bid… Which he probably has.

Stacking nineteen coins on the counter, he said, "And the five before are for storing it a little longer for me, and I'll pay you one more, nineteen, for cooking. Nothing, not even sauces or cooking wines or oils, can be used that didn't come from Gong Zhang's stash."

"You can really tell?" The round-faced man asked, looking at him dubiously.

"Yes." Booker replied.

"Hmm." He turned and bustled down a small flight of steps, coming back up with a crate of rice and a few withered greens. He pushed into the kitchen and there was yelling beyond the door, during which time Booker glanced around the inn surrounding him.

All around him were young men and women who bloomed with excitement. Calm faces were rare, people without weapons rarer. Everybody here wore swords on their hip, or carried spears, bows, or other tools of warfare. Some wore rich silks. Others wore wolfstooth pendants and hide jackets. The two groups roughly split the tavern in half, and where they collided, tempers bristled.

People coming down from the north, where the Hu Clan controls territory…

And people from the valleys below, the locals…

Booker could only shake his head at Rain's memories of deep-seated hatred towards the Hu people.

Minutes later the man returned, bringing Booker a plate of rice with steamed cabbage, green onions, and bright red and green peppers. By anyone's account a pauper's meal, but Booker's stomached growled at the sight.

He grabbed his chopsticks and lifted up a clump of rice…

And paused. Sniffed. Put it back down.

Bright red and green peppers. All the vegetables in the crate were withered.

"This isn't the rice Gong Zhang brought, is it?"

"Haaaa." The man chuckled, taking the bowl back. "What a strange oversight. I'll take this back and get you the right one." He didn't seem shamed at all for being caught in his prank.

Ducking back into the kitchen, he came back out with the right bowl, this one having much sadder and less vibrant vegetables.

He has no idea what he almost cost me.

"You'll forgive the mistake, young master. Obviously your sense of smell is really what you say." The man said, setting it down.

"If I couldn't tell the difference, why waste good rice?" Booker asked, acknowledging the half-logic.

"Exactly, young sir." The innkeeper agreed, nodding his head. "My thoughts exactly. You'll be storing it for how long exactly?"

"Should be less than a week." Taking his bowl, he made his way out on the balcony to eat, where less people might see the exposed portion of the tattoo when he lifted his mask.

As he walked, a weasel-faced man knocked against his shoulder, and drink was splashed against his cloak. As the man stepped back and apologized – Booker grabbed his wrist. Yanking it aside, he revealed a bag of his coins in the man's hand.

"I ah…"

"Save it for the tourists." Booker snatched his money back.

Out on the balcony, he took a quiet corner, lifted his mask partway and began to eat. Plain rice cooked without any more fat that had been lingering in the pan…

It tasted so good after six days of starvation that he began to shovel it into his mouth, enjoying the lingering hints of grease, the starchiness of the rice, the clumped texture of the slightly-gooey rice, and the snap and sudden milky sweetness of snow peas mixed in. He'd soon shoveled the lot down his mouth, and he felt blissfully full.

Taking the bowl back to the bar, he set it down and asked the innkeeper, "Which way to the Pearl Gambling House?" got his directions, and stepped out into the night.

Quest: Purification of the Body.

Goal: Eat nothing but spiritual food for 7 (6/7) days.

Reward: 10-Hour Practice Token.

— — —

The gambling house shook with the stomp of boots. It was on a raised wooden foundation that felt like it would come down any second now as the people at the front of the ring, pushed up to the rope barriers surrounding the pit in the floor, stomped their boots down in rhythm with their chants and cries of encouragement. In the middle of the ring, in a dusty pit, two spirits beasts fought a desperate war of extinction.

A mongoose lept and danced on its paws, evading the attacks of a large serpent by twisting its body and jumping straight back. The serpent kept its head up, diving down for sharp, snapping attacks.

The mongoose had an armor of quills to protect itself with, while the serpent had a lotus flower blooming atop its skull.

All at once the fight turned upside-down as the serpent extended a little too far and the mongoose darted around it and clamped its jaws into the serpent's neck.

Their bodies twisted and tossed around the arena, but the mongoose held on, tearing out the serpent's throat through its bodyweight.

"Enough!" On two platforms that extended out partially over the ring, the commanders of the spirit beasts could see each other. The one commanding the snake had clearly had his fill. "Twenty liang to end the fight now!"

The other just sneered. "You think I'll stop? I want to see your scrawny beast torn to shreds. I like the bloodshed, I'm a motherfucker!"

Sweet lord. He is not here to make friends. Booker thought as the voices carried to the edge of the crowd. But the crowd– good god they loved it! They roared, pressing forth to lean over the ropes and see the bloodshed first hand.

He edged around the crowd and went to a window in the wall, heavily reinforced by iron bars with a thin slot to pass money through. "I want to enquire about buying something from you!" He said, lifting his voice to be heard. "The deed to a hospital!"

"Ahhh, how did you hear about that?" The teller, a wrinkled old vulture, said. He had all of two teeth and his mouth was mostly gums. "Yes we have the item, but it isn't for sale. It's up as the prize for our next big night!"

Oh for…

"What price." Booker demanded.

"Three hundred liang." The old man said. "Not a bit less."

I'm past my capacity… I'm already eating into my six-hundred liang from Wild Swan… But I have to get back to the market in the daytime if I want to keep making money.

If I intend to make any headway at the auction…

The book is clearly telling me what to do. Gamble, and if I win, ride to the auction with a flood of money.

He turned back towards the ring.

Two heavyset porters dragged a clay jar forward, the size of a small dog. As one tipped the jar onto its side, the other lifted a hammer and swung down, breaking open the top. Fluid gushed out, and something slimy poured free and flopped out.

It was a long, slippery lamprey, a type of eel with no eyes and a massive round mouth that yawned open to reveal row after row of pink-white teeth. But it was sick and wrong. Massive, swollen veins covered its body, a thunderbolt purple color, and it had six legs, completely wrong for an eel. They were the legs of a gecko, with the white underbelly and green top layer of scales, and big, sucker-tipped fingers.

It thrashed onto its feet, and the ring's referee beat a gong with a hammer. "BEGIN!"

The lamprey's tongue shot out in a blur of pink, stabbing for the mongoose. The mongoose wasn't injured, but it was exhausted from one hard fight, and its leap back lacked the same strength as its previous acrobatic dodges.

The lamprey barreled forward, slithering fast in serpentine tracks along the ground. One, two, three times its tongue stabbed out, chasing the mongoose across the ring until –

Until it landed in the sticky trail the lamprey had left behind. Its feet stuck fast, and although it immediately recoiled in shock, it was too late. The sticky mucus had adhered. It screeched defiance as the fat lamprey loomed up above it, rearing onto its hind four legs – but the tongue shot out again and pierced it like an arrow through the throat.

As the crowd groaned, the lamprey wrapped its mucus-coated body around the corpse and began to feed. It was gruesome.

"Hurry up!" The lamprey's owner shouted. "Bring out your next, immediately."

Why he was in such a hurry, Booker didn't know. His creature could use the time between rounds and smear the floor with more sticky mucus.

But the next beast was hauled forward. Like the lamprey, it was in a massive clay jar covered by a netting of ropes by which it could be carried.

It was a miniature boar with a sagging, swollen belly. Something stretched and deformed the surface of the pig's stomach, pulsating, and as it breathed, dozens of wasps emerged from its mouth. Even before it had climbed onto its legs a swarm of wasps surrounded it like a buzzing crown.

As the gong rang – "BEGIN!"

The pig charged headfirst and the lamprey's tongue flashed out, aimed between its eyes. The blow struck true – but the pig still slammed into the lamprey, lifting it off the ground and flinging it against the boards of the arena walls. It stuck there, dripping sludge, and slowly gathered its feet underneath it before it slid back down.

The pig, below, was in trouble. It bleeted and brayed as it tried to yank its feet out of the mucus, and found itself stuck fast.

The lamprey's mouth yawned open– its tongue shot out–

The pig's skull deflected the killing blow again, but the beast was dazed. It let out a piggish squeal and more wasps burst from its mouth, its stomach deflating. They swarmed up and began to sting the lamprey, stabbing it with their needle stings until it fell off the wall and hit the ground. Tearing itself free, the pig slammed its horns down into the lamprey and crushed it…

But the fight had been a slow one, and now the audience was waiting, waiting–

"Bring it out! Bring it out now damn you!" The pig's owner was calling.

The pig was looking weaker and weaker…

It was no good. No matter how much the pig's owner yelled, the men bringing the clay jar with the next spirit beast out didn't hurry at all. As they struck the clay jar open, and a spiky flat fish creature spilled out, the pig had flopped over onto its side. Black tar poured from its eyes and mouth, and steam hissed up from its flesh. The lamprey had already completely dissolved — and now the pig was collapsing as well.

So these are unstable spirit beasts, then. No wonder whoever wins wants the next fight started without delay – their beasts have only minutes to live and fight…

It's… sad.

It's infuriating.

This place has an evil aura.

He looked away as the next and final fight began.

The book might want me to win here. And it would let me maybe double or triple my money for the auction. But I don't want to kill hapless creatures for money…

Is there another way?

Pushing his way around the crowd, Booker left, head buzzing with thoughts.

Quest: Recover the Hospital Deed

The hospital's land rights have been lost on a wager at the Pearl Gambling House. Recover them.

Reward: Master Page

— — —

The last place on Booker's tour of the city was the Golden Moon Auction House, which stood alone at the height of a hill, bonfires burning in the expansive courtyards where wine-sotted parties were being held. As he approached the main gates, rickshaws and carriages rode past up the hill, parking themselves in a wide and manicured lawn.

It was clearly an expensive place. As Booker approached, the gate guards paid him no attention. He wasn't the only masked attendant by a long shot.

People gathered together in the main hall, showing tickets or putting down money to make their way past a chokepoint where their weapons were taken.

Booker filtered through, paying a ten liang entrance fee for a paper fan on which was written a one-time ticket into the lowest levels of the stands. It was also a ticket to the numerous amusements of the venue, where they held stage-shows, gambles, and musical theaters, and rented the courtyards out to private parties. This was clearly where the rich people of the city went for entertainment. The auctions were merely one small part of the operation.

But as he set foot in the auction house proper, it was also clear that this was a place of pride.

The chairs were carved from dark mahogany wood, the room set up like an amphitheater with ascending rows of chairs and then, extending out from the rounded back wall, balcony boxes with the angles set so that the people inside would be invisible except to the people on stage, chiefly the auctioneer.

On stage were beautiful marble pedestals decorated by coiling golden serpents, holding up cushioned glass boxes where precious ingredients were on display. In the farthest left, there was a branch of light green wood covered by glowing white flower buds. To the right of that, a bell-shaped ingot of silver metal that seemed to radiate a crackling stormcloud in a ring orbit around it. In the third box on the left hand side of the stage, there was a small black pill. On the right side of the stage were two more glass boxes, one holding a collection of brilliant blue feathers and one holding a jar of pearlescent dust, but Booker's attention was totally taken by the pill.

Pillar Body Pill (Sky)

37% Potency // 16% Toxicity

Effect:

Hardens the body and grants an earth-attuned physiology. A complete body transformation pill.

Ingredients:

Thousand Year Geode's Milk

6-Times Refined Earth Essence

Seven-Year Flower Syrup

6-Times Refined Cyclopean Owl Eye

It was his first time seeing a Sky-grade pill. And from the description, it was his first time seeing alchemy of real power. A complete body transformation pill…

Would that cure a cripple? Probably.

But it would do much more than just that. This kind of treasure… It's the kind of thing the Sect itself couldn't bring out on a whim. If I assume the other four items are just as valuable, this collection of wealth is enormous, and sending a clear message about the auction house.

As is…

Sitting outside the lights illuminating the stage, almost invisible against the back wall, were seven ornate suits of armor with closed faceplates. Stranger still, there was no point in their bodies not covered by armor, not a single gap or opening. Even the fingers of their gauntlets were articulated, grasping spears with the agility of real hands.

They were golems.

Since the auction house makes a show of its wealth, why not make a show of its ability to defend that wealth? And the golems are at least as valuable as all of the items on stage combined.

A hush fell over the house as people took their seats.

A gorgeous woman stepped out from behind the curtain and bowed. She was dressed in tribal robes, white furs patterned at their fringes with bright red beads, and stitched with delicate embroidered flowers of a light blue color. Her hair was lifted into horns by a crown of antlers, through which her braided white hair was woven.

"Welcome to the House of the Golden Moon Sect. For as long as the memory of the earth extends, the Gold Moon has shone in our sky, casting down its benevolence and generosity. We of the Golden Moon Sect seek to bring word of this generosity to all, and collect the treasures of the land, so the moon's gifts can be seen. Please be silent and use the paper fans given to you to bid, as we display the treasures of the moon."

The lights dimmed everywhere except for the stage. Two orderlies brought out a long wooden case, turning it onto its side so that everyone could see through the glass lid, displaying a long double-edged sword inside. The grip was banded yellow and black, and bore a design like a serpent curling around the crossguard.

"This is the Krait-Tooth Sword. Forged from special alloys that absorb deadly properties from poisons they touch, and quenched in a bucket of poison from the banded krait. It will only grow deadlier as you season it with poisons of your own, making it an ideal weapon, one that can kill a cultivator in a matter of minutes from a single sting. Bidding begins at three hundred liang."

Booker straightened up in his seat. That's really a hell of a sales pitch. Obviously they'll bring something good out to get people bidding at the start, but still… If the stuff they bring out for a normal auction is already this good, the stuff at the special monthly auction won't be cheap.

One by one, fans were raised, the auctioneer calling out the rising price… "Three-hundred-eighty! Three-hundred-ninety! Four hundred! Four-hundred-fifty!"

For a moment the price stalled, before someone spoke from the box seats. "Five hundred!"

"Oh my! The generous lord in the box seats! Five hundred!"

There were no more bids. The Krait-Tooth Sword was taken away.

Next up was a stained bronze compass, the Blood-Sense Compass, which would sense the strongest beast within 1 mile, and could be tuned to point the way towards a specific beast if sprinkled with that beast's blood.

These are good treasures. Shame I can't afford to participate. I really need more money…

He watched the Blood-Sense Compass go for three-hundred with a sense of dread.

If even things like that go for three hundred… How am I going to compete in the main auction? I have to hope they don't know what it's worth, but the fact they put it in the main monthly auction says they have an idea.

"Next up, from the eastern jungles, fossilized moon monkey brain!" The next case was tall and skinny, containing a fat-bellied and slender-necked jar sealed by a stopper in the shape of a monkey's head. "A rare treat that can enhance your natural mental faculties. Be aware, after 100 years the diseases it contains will completely devour your mind, unless you ascend to the ranks of true cultivation before that time is up."

Immediately the beginning began racing upwards, even as Booker wondered who would stomach such a bargain. The idea of gambling death by ingesting poison was wild to him – but to a cultivator, risking death must feel natural.

But what made him sit forward in his seat was the next offer.

"As we cannot name these herbs or explain their purpose, they are presented here as a single item, a lot of unidentified medicines and herbs! Those of you who wish to gamble, try your luck!"

But… I don't need to gamble…

Booker leaned forward and gazed at the display case full of strangely shaped roots, grasses, bright flowers, and herbaceous leaves. He knew each and every ingredient, the book seamlessly filling his mind with the knowledge of all of them.

That bundle of odds and ends was worth easily three or four hundred liang to him!

Writing on his fan, he lifted it almost before she had finished saying:

"Bidding to begin at fifty! – Oh!" She paused mid-speech and corrected, "One hundred right out the gate!"

A chuckle ran through the crowd. People looked over.

"I suppose we know something is good in this bunch, but not what. Trusting this masked man's expertise, we clearly undervalued this lot!"

Yeah, it figures this would cause a splash. But since my end-goal with this persona is to become a doctor to the upper-classes, and using that money to fund both myself and the hospital… I need to impress them somehow.

Booker had decided that he needed to continue the masked man persona to maintain access to the world outside the cult, since his book clearly wasn't going to pause giving him quests beyond the Sect's walls.

Before, he had made good returns in the market by dealing in petty medicines, but if he could raise his station and become a doctor to the rich, he could fund the hospital quite easily on top of providing for himself. It was one of the issues where he could do the most good simply by making money and spending it to help people – a strategy enabled by the book, which could practically print money by enabling him to make medicines as effectively as he did.

But since he could never reveal how he was an infinite source of pills without being enslaved, he would need to find ways of doing it without drawing too much attention. A doctor to the rich could be overlooked by the cult but still draw a huge amount of legitimate money.

If I bid for every mystery lot for a few days, that's a good way of signaling I know something important.

After a few seconds where nobody bid, she declared, "To the masked man! One hundred!"

Even if I signaled I knew something valuable was inside, they wouldn't know what to do with it to unlock that value.

He rose and left the auction room, returning to the lobby, where a clerk directed him with a bow. "This way, sir."

He was taken to a small counter at the end of a corridor, with a carved wooden screen over a lacquer-polished black oak desk. There a woman who could have been the twin of the one onstage, minus the ridiculously fancy tribal garb, took a brief look at him. She had bowl-cut hair with a single braid that was tied in a butterfly-shaped knot atop her head, and bangs that hung down in gathered braids.

"Congratulations. We always enjoy seeing someone find fortune in our mystery herbs lots. If you don't mind the impudence, there is an additional reward we can share if you share your knowledge with us. In short, we will refund the box and give you a fair price in silver if you can identify any of the herbs for us."

"How much?" Booker asked, curious.

"Between ten and a hundred liang, depending on the quality of your information."

So the question is…

How famous do I want to be, how quickly. Since these people aren't the Mantis Sect, they'll have trouble moving against me without explaining to the Mantis Sect what they're after – in which case the Mantis Sect would take me from them. So it's safer to risk exposure with them than with the Mantis Sect.

"I can identify four."

Her eyebrows shot up. "My, how generous. Let me invite you to sit down, and I'll fetch the master of the auction house, my father."

A door clicked open in the wall, and she invited him through a beaded curtain into a small lounge with a low table and reed sitting mats. Traveling upstairs, she soon returned with a handsome elderly man who walked with a pronounced limp.

"I see, I see." He said. "Traveling incognito? We understand such things here at the house of the Golden Moon. Let me assure you, I have no care to discover your identity. We are brokers, go-betweens, and integrity is something our business would die without."

"I don't doubt it. That's why I chose to see you." Booker bowed his head as he sat down. I can't let on that I want the amulet before the auction, or no doubt they'll bleed me to the bone. "I wanted to sell you my services as an identifier." Assuming I can get the full hundred liang pay for each identified herb, I'll make more money this way, while exposing myself to less scrutiny.

"I can sense you know the value of information." The old man said, sighing as he fought the weakness of his knees to sit slowly down.

The value of information indeed. This is a far better way to make money in the short term, and to row my reputation, than just working the market.

"I was actually wondering if you could help me with that." Booker said carefully. As an obvious foreigner, I want to create the false impression I have strong powers backing me from far away… In short, it doesn't hurt me to be ignorant of local goings-on. Act like this is beneath me.

"Could you inform me a little of the Mantis Sect and it's history?"

Chapter 28: Running to Keep Pace

He was a silver-haired man with only gentle lines on his face, wearing night-black robes with a single golden moon inscribed on the chest. He walked with a limp, and his daughter had to help him to sit down.

"I am Yi Yuxuan. As for the Mantis…" The old man took a draw from a bone-handled pipe and puffed out a ring of smoke. "Ah that's a complicated question. The simple version is… A little more than three hundred years ago, the Mantis Sect was nothing but the family that kept an inn along the road. They happened to shelter an immortal who was badly wounded. In return, they were promised that in the next one-thousand years, no enemy would be able to persecute them. Within any walls they built, they would be the law and the justice, and an enemy that threatened those walls would be destroyed utterly if they merely broke the command talisman they were given to summon the immortal back."

"So… It was license to build a city?" Booker paused. This whole city… began with a single immortal's promise...

"Indeed, as the protections would grow with the walls they built, they were encouraged to build as much as they could. Even the neighboring powers, the Hutan Empire and the Iron Wall Bandits, could not risk the immortal's wrath." Yi Yuxuan continued. "At the time, the Hutan Empire had just driven out the Lao-Hain tribespeople. It was a good time to sow a seed, and so, Mantis City was born."

"I see. Thank you for enlightening me." He bowed his head.

"So polite…" Yi Yuxuan chuckled. "It's funny. Your mask indicates that you don't wish to be bound by social conventions. The whole point of a mask is to escape your role in society. But still, you're polite. Why is that?"

Booker actually snorted with laughter. "I suppose I hadn't considered the contradiction. Eh, let's say the mask makes things uncomplicated, and were everything simple, I'd be polite all the time."

"If everything were simple…" The man nodded. "I understand the sentiment. Now, we have a small task for you. A simple test of identification skill."

The daughter brought out four small plants growing in miniature pots, setting them out on the table between them.

"These are four plants of varying difficulty to identify. We require you to identify at least three." She explained.

Booker picked the first one up. It was a tiny wooden sprig like the core of a briar bush, thorny and green, with a mixture of bright firework red flowers and small dark red berries that glistened like drops of jelly.

Common Painberry Wortgrass spliced w/ Lullaby Poppy

Intact (Splice) / Dull Quality

A pair of common plants spliced together, with minimal alchemical properties. Most notable for its resemblance to Red Honeyberry.

Antiseptic 5% (+)

Somnolent 5% (+)

Toxicity 10% (-)

Qi Recovery 1% (+)

He blinked at the word spliced, something that had never appeared before, and leaned closer to inspect the plant. There were tiny grooves where the wooden stalk had been surgically conjoined to the flowers, tiny differences in the shade of green. So… This is the trap they set for the overconfident. A plant that's obviously one thing, but secretly worthless.

And the message is…

"I see. It's not just unidentified goods you want me to deal with, but intentional fraud." He said, setting the potted plant down. "This is poppy and wortgrass."

Yi Yuxuan was definitely paying attention now. "Sharp eyes. Yes, you'll have to be on guard against frauds as well. Of course, if someone shows up with a spliced plant of that quality…"

"It would be better to offer them a job than to throw them out." Booker said. He couldn't imagine anyone spotting this unless they approached the task with a paranoid level of care.

Which is exactly what they're looking for. I should count myself lucky I have the book.

He picked up the next plant. It was a furry, cone-shaped growth of densely clustered branches, half of them tipped by tiny purple blossoms, so that it had the appearance of a tiny tree covered by ornaments.

Purifying Aloes Cone

Intact // Earth Quality

Known for extruding a fragrant sap when squeezed even lightly, fragrant aloes cone is valued for alchemy and perfume. This particular species has a strong poison purging effect but is found only in deep deserts.

Poison Purging 10% (-)

Qi Recovery 5% (+)

Alluring Fragrance 5% (-)

Hallucinogenic Poison 5% (R2)

Booker was surprised. Bringing out an Earth-quality plant for a test was no joke. It even had one of the rarer property tags, a Reagent Number. Properties with a Reagent number would only activate if every Reagent Number beneath them was also activated, down to 1, which would always be activate.

Worse, Reagent Number qualities were mostly negative up until you clustered three or four of them, at which point they got better with each step you took. An Reagent-6 pill was wildly stronger than other pills of its type, if also riddled with side effects.

"Purifying Aloes Cone." He noted. "It's quite clever to keep a desert specimen like this alive here."

"The splice and the cone plant are both my work, actually." The daughter interjected. She was smiling quite broadly, and nudging her father, as if Booker had accidentally weighed in on some argument between them. "Have you ever visited the Hutan Festival of Green Branches?"

"I can't say I have. What is it?" Booker asked.

"A spirit gardening festival. Ones who contribute energy to the Hutan Spirit Tree are given saplings to grow, which will extend their lifespan up to one-hundred years." She explained.

"Apologies, sir." Yi Yuxuan sighed. "She's become convinced she's ready to leave for this festival. If you can say anything at all on the matter, please say that the roads are dangerous and travel is for fools."

"I should avoid weighing in at all." Booker demurred.

"Absolutely, absolutely. Very sorry that this foolishness came up at all." The old man said, harrumphing in agreement with himself.

She sighed and left, pausing to glare over her shoulder at Booker.

"The gardening is well done." He said apologetically.

"Again, apologies for the disturbance."

"It's really nothing." Booker assured him. If anything, he was mildly suspicious it was an act. Very easy to take people off-guard when you project an image of familial duty and patience.

"Now, the remaining two plants should prove no issue."

Waterveil Lotus

Intact // Dull Quality

Lotus flowers that grow underneath waterfalls are known to be pure and holy symbols. Once in a hundred years, one might bloom directly on the face of the waterfall, and that lotus will be a Waterveil Lotus, purest white.

Toxicity and Potency 20% (-)

Cultivation Boost 20% (Water)

Cultivation Boost 5% (+)

Qi Recovery 20% (-)

Additional Effect: Balance: Add 20% Potency. (If you have at least one complete elemental wheel for each ingredient with the Balance tag, you gain the Balance effect.)

Balance was another condition that was common at higher levels of alchemy, but rare to see at this low tier. Basically, if you assembled a set of all five elements, one balance tag would activate. If you assembled another five, a second could. Since they all multiplied each other, a balance pill was extremely powerful.

Solar Pinwheel Flower

Intact // Dull Quality

Known to rotate without any wind, so long as the sun is shining on its petals. In the autumn months the heads break off and spin away, scattering seeds below.

Body Cultivation 5% (Day)

Cultivation Boost 5% (+)

Beast Taming 5% (+)

Toxicity and Potency 20% (Day)

Every Day property had to be balanced by a Night Property, and vise versa, to function. If they weren't cleanly able to break into pairs, none of them would activate. Because a Solar Pinwheel had two Day tags, it was very hard to use in anything.

"Waterveil Lotus and Solar Pinwheel." He concluded.

"Magnificent. You've identified all four, including our trap, which means you have the right temperament and skills to work here." Yi Yuxuan grinned. "I can start you right away, with the medicine lot for the monthly auction."

"The one thing to discuss is payment." Booker added.

"You'll receive 100 liang per identification up front, and a thirty percent commission on the sales of objects you identify." Yi Yuxuan's gaze was steady. Booker realized that if he didn't argue, this man would never respect him.

"No percent is necessary. Instead, I want to keep a third of the plants I identify. Since I'm more than doubling their value, that should be a profit for you still.."

"Hmm… A third…" The old man sounded unconvinced, and even if Booker knew it was a game, it was a game he intended to play.

"Consider that the information I give you will be useful for more than one auction. You only pay me once, but you can reap the rewards of knowledge multiple times. To make it even better, I'll bring the herbs back as medicines and sell them at this auction. That way, you'll get auction fees on the deal as well."

Yi Yuxuan rolled it around for a few seconds, and then said, "Tell you what, it's a deal."

He clapped his hands and his daughter stepped back in, helping him to his feet. "Yi Daiyu will show you to the pieces that need inspection."

She nodded her head, gesturing for him to follow. People were pouring out of the auction house now, out into the various amusements and entertainments. Booker was led past all of them, down a narrow flight of stairs, and into a wooden undercroft that was behind and beneath the stage.

And there, secured by four sentinel golems, was all the wealth of the upcoming monthly auction.

A curved saber sat on metal posts. It was made out of heavy jade, inscribed with ancient characters and scowling demonic faces. At the edge, the jade turned thunderbolt white.

Next to that was a collection of bone pins set on a velvet backdrop, the ornaments at the top resembling herons and snakes.

Beside that was a single large seedpod, yellow-green and ridged so that it looked like an oblong star. Strangely, his book of alchemy identified it as…

Golemseed

A seed that contains the potential to become a golem. Unsuitable for alchemy.

"What does the golemseed grow?" Booker asked. "What kind of golem?"

"A fortress." She said, turning. "An entire fortress. This is really one of the top-tier offerings, even if it's for warfare instead of the small-scale battles we see here in the Mantis Sect."

"Incredible." Why waste such a treasure on a place like the Mantis Sect, where warfare is almost unheard of? Unless it's not even worth considering a treasure when you get to the Hutan capital.

Next were the unsorted medicines. Anything that they could identify as valuable, but not give a more nuanced appraisal, ended up here.

"How do you determine when something is valuable enough to join the monthly auction?" Booker asked, eyes sweeping over the collection. At a glance he could identify everything, and while they claimed not to be able to identify the contents, they hadn't let anything especially worthless fall into the collection.

"We have an amulet, the Golden Moon Amulet of Beauty, which can determine roughly how valuable something is. It's not foolproof, but it always points us in the right direction."

"Ah."

The herbal medicines had been collected in small cedarwood caskets to preserve the herbs for longer. A small portion of each plant had been cut away to add to the main display, framing all the plants together.

I better keep the fact I can identify them all under wraps. That being said…

"I can identify six of the seven."

Tapping the glass, he said. "This is Strangling Willow Noose. It's a kind of predatory moss that grows on willow trees if too many bodies gather under the roots. It's good for body cultivation, very good… The next is Para-Flame Tulip, a rare breed though, broken with three different colors. That means its three times as effective for cultivation boosting pills…"

As he explained, she took out a small journal and began jotting down the information.

He named the remaining three, then walked further, down the line of treasures readied for auction. When he saw the amulet sitting among them, a shapeless knot of jade on a thin chain, he immediately thought it looked out of place among the gleaming relics they'd collected…

But rather than even let his eyes linger on it, he kept moving. If I indicate it's more valuable than they know, they'll definitely make me pay a high cost to get it back. That's just business…

Eventually he came to a brass bracelet that seemed equally out of step with its surroundings. "This bracelet, how much is it?" He asked.

"It will start at one thousand. It may not look like much, but that's an Ancestral Witchsong Bracelet. It contains three powerful songs that can mesmerize foes into an illusionary world."

One thousand… In some ways its an insane price to pay for a lump of jade. On the other hand, I know it's somehow connected to the books, and contains a fraction of one. With that in mind…

One thousand is a ridiculous steal.

— — —

Booker left the auction house significantly richer than before. Identifying ten herbs had made him…

One thousand liang. Nearly enough for a starting bid. And when the pills he made with the herbs sold, he could expect to make another thousand.

The auction house was a good idea.

He made his way back to where the Sect was rolling out its early morning laundry brigade, pausing in a dirty alley to change out of his mask and cloak, switching to a novice's Sect robes. The morning was viciously cold against his skin and felt like being splashed with ice water, waking him up out of the haze he'd been in.

Did I really do all that?

Sometimes I look back at everything I've lied my way through and wonder where does this come from.

He made his way down to Chen Jie, finding the old cripple…

Curiously positioned, his feet rooted in the shallow mud of the river, his hands by his sides, standing stock upright like his back was against a board.

"Chen Jie?" Booker asked. The old cripple didn't respond.

He reached forward and grasped Chen Jie's shoulder. When that elicited no response, he shook Chen Jie lightly, like the old man might be asleep.

All at once Chen Jie let out a startled gasp, and clawed at Booker's hand with his own. Booker wrenched his arm back, stepping away, but Chen Jie had already recovered.

"Junior brother–" He paused, and collected himself enough to lower his voice to a whisper. "Junior brother Rain! Are you alright?"

Booker held out his hand, displaying the bloody fingernail marks Chen Jie had left in his skin. For the old man to have done that much damage, he must have used all the strength in his body, like a demon drunkard or a man in a battle rage.

"Oh dear. You went and– you must have woken me suddenly." He shook his head. "I am sorry, brother Rain. I suppose nobody told you but… Cripples are known to sleepwalk, and its said in their dreams, they have the strength they lack while waking. It's an old folktale but the truism is this – don't wake a sleepwalking cripple."

"How real is this folktale?" Booker asked, curious.

"In my experience?" Chen Jie shook his head. "I've never seen one hurt a cultivator, but I've seen a man kill when they were woken up suddenly. I don't believe they ever would have done that – it was old Tang Min and poor Brother Dogface– but I don't believe Tang Min would ever have done that in their right mind…"

"I'll remember this." Booker promised. "I came here because I need you to sneak me in again."

"Again!?" Chen Jie exclaimed.

"I can pay obviously. I won't ask you to stick your neck out for nothing."

"Boy!" He scoffed in disapproval. "It's not a matter of a money, it's about you taking your own safety in hand two days running. What if I wasn't here today – do you know which cripples are safe to talk to, and which are snitches?"

"You're right, of course. Which days are you here?" Booker was, as always, running a step ahead of himself. What if Chen Jie wasn't here? He'd be totally guessing who to trust, with no guarantee he wouldn't get delivered to the guard in a laundry basket.

No matter how lightly the Sect had bothered to enforce the ruling against him, they'd definitely punish him if he was caught breaking it. It was embarrassing them that he'd pay for in that case.

"I'm here for the rest of the week, then off a week, then on." Chen Jie sighed. "There's really no teaching you not to outrun yourself, is there?"

"I think in the whole scheme of reincarnation, I might have learned once or twice."

"I only help you because you make us cripples look good. Like telling the cultivators, look, we have our own maniacs! This one, this one's got your kind of special stupid!!"

Booker snorted. "I really do. I apologize for any trouble I'm putting you through, I just… I have a chance to do things right, and I know exactly what kind of effort it will take from me, and I have to try and meet that future. So I can't slow down."

I have a chance to not just be a cultivator, but a great cultivator. The more I learn the more powerful I realize the book is.

"I know, I know. Everyone knows you plan to be a cultivator by now." Chen Jie could only sigh again. "It's incredible. Deep down, every cripple wants to be the exception, the one who leaps the dragon gate. And everyone can see that you're running at that goal like the gate will open. I'm not going to ask that you stop running– I just hate to see you find out the gate is solid."

"..." Booker didn't know what to say.

"There we go, some wisdom's finally sunken in. Now keep quiet and get in the basket."

— — —

Booker went to his room and deposited the medicines he'd won at the auction house underneath the floorboards. There were real prizes there – things that would slingshot him well ahead of the curve once more.

But what Chen Jie had said stuck with him. He had in his mind now the image of a gate. A great gate, made not of carved stone but weathercast granite, rocks shaped by wind and wave over generations to resemble two enormous dragonheads at either side of a great empty cliff face, an impossible climb.

And to cultivate wasn't just to go over–

But through.

It wasn't just him either. The Book had great expectations as well. Already, it wanted him to split a practice stone – a feat that was on par with a cultivator of the second tier!

There were three known tiers to cultivation…

Refined Muscle, Fat, and Skin.

Refined Tendon, Organ, and Nerve.

Refined Bone, Marrow, and Blood.

And anyone who stepped beyond the third realm would live 300 years as an Enlightened Soul cultivator!

With every quest, the book's demands had gotten harsher, to the point it was now expecting him to be able to throw a punch on par with a Refined Tendon stage cultivator. A punch that would snap him like a twig, no doubt.

Already, a new quest had replaced the quest to create a high quality medicinal pill.

Quest: Rendering the Fat

Goal: Extract valuable materials from 5 (0/5) beasts or monsters.

Reward: Karmic Pill.

It's only going to keep pushing me further. I think I should be able to cultivate pretty naturally once the roadblock of my corrupt meridians is removed. I already have the meditation state, which seems to be the natural point where you begin cultivating. With pills helping me, I should be able to reach Refined Muscle quickly after that.

Quickly bathing and getting shaved, Booker changed into fresh robes and made his way out into the hallways. He skipped the breakfast queue, mindful of the final day of his fast, but instead went to Greenmoon's quarters directly and knocked on the door.

Wei Qi opened it, looking sleepy. "Oh. One second, and then we'll get the furnaces ready." He tried to straighten up and dust himself off, but Booker could tell he hadn't slept well. "I just–

"Take a few more minutes." Booker said, pushing the door open and stepping past him. "Master Greenmoon?"

The Instructor was sitting sipping at a cup of tea. He lifted an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"We'll need a few hours to get ready. Sorry, it was troublesome collecting all the ingredients, and we haven't had time to prepare them. It takes several hours of cooking in a kiln or a furnace to get things ready." He said, almost truthfully.

"Oh, I see. Yes yes, I'll teach the normal lessons and then meet with you. If you still haven't gotten things done by that time, you can at least explain the process to me…" Greenmoon said, making it sound like agreement.

Translation: be the fastest way to get what I want, or I'll take over.

"Of course. We'll work all night if need be." Booker promised.

"Of course." Wei Qi echoed.

"Well, be off." Greenmoon dismissed them, and Booker quickly pulled Wei Qi out with him. The younger apprentice sighed and shook his head.

"Is there any way to rush things?" Wei Qi asked.

"None." Booker confirmed. "But run and get the furnace going, full heat. The first step is to pack the salt into the bamboo tubes and roast the salt inside. We'll need to leave time for a second burn after that."

Wei Qi rushed off and Booker sighed. Greenmoon wasn't going to tolerate any slacking or delaying on his end – Wei Qi had probably had to report that Booker was found sleeping, and now Greenmoon was giving his leash a sharp tug.

We'll need to give him results by the end of the week. Sooner if my master returns – it's one thing if he denies giving me this technique once it's proven to work, it's another if he does it before, and I look like a fraud who's spinning wild tales to elevate himself.

If I look like…

Funny.

That's exactly who I am, but I can't afford to look like it.

He made his way back to the laboratory the slow way, watching the Sect wake up. Although he still had to bow his head to the proper disciples, he was noting a different way they treated him now. There was a sense that he might strike back if kicked. Still a dog… but a dog with some bite.

Looks like word's gotten out.

He found the courtyard before the gate, where there was a tall wooden pillar tacked with request talismans that rattled in the wind. Waving to the granny behind the rewards counter, he slid into line to speak with her, puffing hot breath onto his cold hands and waiting as disciples collected in the snowy yard and plucked request talismans off the pillar.

"Elder sister, please lend me your advice on something." He said as he reached the front of the line, hopping from foot to foot for warmth.

"You want my advice? Buy some winter robes. You'll die of cold otherwise, it's only going to get worse." She scowled at him.

"I was wondering if you knew anyone who might be fighting monsters, but doesn't have an alchemist or a butcher to get any value out of the carcasses?" Booker persevered.

"Oh, trying to make money on skins and organs, are you?" She clucked. "Not a bad idea, since you can't do your own requests. But monsters have to be skinned fast, before their toxins eat them from the inside – and you can't go afield. The enforcers clipped your wings, last I heard."

"Mm, I didn't know monster corpses would dissolve that fast…" What people called 'monsters' were plants and animals that had absorbed too much toxicity from the earth, and become monstrous versions of themselves. And when a powerful enough monster was born, it could begin a Frenzy….

A Frenzy like the one that had driven Rain's family from their home, and killed his father and grandfather.

Digesting that memory made him feel queasy. He felt a strange sense of loss, for something he logically knew he'd never had. Someone else's loss and nostalgia.

"There are the river lobster trappers, I suppose. Strictly speaking they're not exterminating monsters, but they encounter plenty and I know they're off hunting on the side." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "They go out at night, so nobody will notice you gone."

"Thank you granny. You are wise as always." Booker grinned.

As he walked away, however, he caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd. Fen waved to him to with a paper fan, ambling forward with his ever-present shadow, Zu, hovering in the background. "So, mister Iron Cripple. How's remaining lowkey and hidden feel?"

"Ah I took the method to heart but missed the lesson, on that one." Booker could only laugh and rub the back of his head. He'd definitely learned to lower his martial intent but only raised his profile.

"You look like you've been running yourself ragged." He said with a note of criticism. "You used to be so relaxed."

I used to be drunk all the time, with nothing better to do than be a crony.

"I have to be. I have to come back from this." Booker gestured to his face, to the brand that had settled on his skin.

But that doesn't mean we weren't friends. And I want Fen to believe in the me that's living his friend's best life.

"I understand. You maybe feel like you wasted time before, no? But there's no need to neglect friendship to chase a goal: we're all going the same way, after all." Fen offered.

"Ah, I worry about keeping up, to be honest. I have to do things a very specific way…" Booker tried to explain. He was clever enough, he felt, to be an asset at most any task; but he had to be entirely more cautious and restrained about using his strengths, in case he drew too much attention. Cultivators were normal and could simply let loose.

"I understand, I understand." Fen tapped his chin with the fan. "Tell you what: I have a specific problem, that requires a very delicate way of doing things. If you handle it with me, I'll help you with your own issue."

"Meaning?"

"Your crippling, of course. You've probably already learned of the medicines that can potentially clean your meridians – well, I know where one can be found."