Chapter 164 - Out of the Smoke

  The smoke had thinned until it was almost like air. Hao stepped out of the cave at last, eyes stinging, lungs sore, the scent of fire stuck to the inside of his nose.

  He walked to the well first thing outside the mining hall outpost. A new set of eyes landed on him at every step on the dirt path. One servant looked like he had something to say—but quickly looked away once Hao looked at him to hear his words.

  Let ’em stare, he thought. The only worry on his mind was how many more steps he had before he could rinse his mouth. Ash clung to every part of him. He gave up on cleaning the censer halfway through his second day. It was quicker just to dump the burned herbs to the side, load more, and start the next burn. Now he had to pay for that. It was between his fingers and toes, and it scrubbed at his scalp—that didn’t bother him nearly as much as it should have. He was used to dust from the mine. Being clean was once a luxury.

  It was well worth it. Even during the most miserable parts of the unique form of cultivation, he found tranquility at the bottom of each burn. His meditation was easier now. That was a major benefit, not counting the massive boosts he had to his senses.

  Hao could feel World Energy brush against his skin, almost desperate to burrow into his pores. His aching lungs were soothed with each breath.

  There was no direct improvement to his brute strength, but the benefits would be hard for him to estimate. Any advantage seemed impossible to get at the moment. Yet this landed in his lap; he could smell and hear a mile away, and his sight was even better. There was almost no doubt in his mind that he could taste the most subtle poison unless an Alchemy Master made it.

  There was a whole crowd by the time Hao reached well. A servant twice his age stepped aside and dropped his waterskin in shock.

  Hao waited for the man to pick it up before he stepped forward.

  He wasn’t livestock for sale, but people, even disciples, watched him as he washed his face and rinsed his mouth. He had to kick muddy snow off his thin shoes from where he spat.

  “Senior. Senior. Stop. I don’t know what happened to you, but there is only so much water in the well.”

  Hao looked at the disciple who spoke. He had to wave his hand in front of his face to get the steam rising off his skin out of the way.

  They locked eyes. Hao continued to scan and made a note of the Holding Bag on his hip. Other than that, his thin mustache and colossal forehead were the only things of notice; his words, well, Hao just assumed everything the man said had no value. He was one of Taoyi’s toads, here to sell poison to servants that didn’t know any better.

  “How much for a chicken?” Hao asked, he could get two or three, one or two for himself and another for Meiqi and Zhengqi to split. It would be a good gift and greeting. It had been a while since they had seen each other. Not that long, seeing how it was still a bloody winter.

  Mustache perked up and switched into salesman mode.

  Hao was used to that. It must have been part of their training to be a scam artist in front of all the servant counters.

  “Fifty—no less for a whole bird,” he demanded, “each,” he added as if that was clear. He reached into the bag on his waist. Walked over to Hao. In his hand, he held out a porcelain pill bottle. They were supposed to be beautifully white, yet this one was stained a sour yellow. “Five for this. Though I need your name down to sell it.”

  Hao took out a flint, but tucked it between his fingers as he reached for the bottle. “Five?” he asked.

  “Fifty for the chicken.”

  The bottle made a loud pop as he opened it.

  Hao knew that smell instantly. Spoiled fruit, moldy bread, fly-covered fish bones. He was repulsed, and at the same time pulled in.

  “Your last chance to get some, the formula is being changed from what I hear. First Elder wants it changed to impress the Sect Master. I heard he made a surprise visit during the Secret Realm journey.”

  Hao flipped the bottle upside down and poured it out. Once the pills were on the ground, he turned and threw the porcelain vessel far beyond the mountain shelf.

  “What are you?!”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  He ignored Mustache and sparked the pills with the flint. They lit up with green smoke.

  I was eating this stuff for months, Hao admonished himself. It was the first time he heard this story of the Sect Master, but of course, the First Elder was hiding the tracks of whatever poison this was.

  “Senior… tell me you are at least going to buy a chicken.”

  Hao looked up, “No.”

  For fifty each. If he wanted two, one hundred sect points would be enough to buy six skinned rabbits. His investment in holding onto everything was slow to pay off; amethyst and beast parts sat in his bag and wasted away. He wasn’t hurting for spirit stones, but the library wasn’t going to be his hunting ground for a long while.

  “Fine… I will tell the Servants Hall Leader about you.” Mustache walked backward, his hand out in what Hao assumed was an attempt at a threat.

  Hao walked away. “Hao, you can tell Taoyi it’s Hao causing trouble; we’re really good friends. He is like a… mentor.” He sneezed, and a hunk of ashy mucus splattered the snow.

  The servants walked over as the disciples cleared the area. They took pieces of wood and put them on the green smoke, a fire grew, and in a matter of seconds, those who waited at the well or enjoyed their meals were huddled around a campfire.

  *****************************************************

  Hao didn’t linger long on the lower shelf of the Sect, not to wash up in the pond or visit his half-built property. He went up into the Lower Peaks, towards the courtyard.

  He snuck an arm up his sleeve. Still thinking it was worth his time and effort to be stealthy about the Spirit-Holding bag. His hand held the ruby at the neck of the bag tied to his chest. It was easier to get a sense of the inside that way.

  The censer was the first thing he spotted. Its bronze body was crusted with green rust from the ruthless way he used it. An obsolete piece of equipment now. Thankfully, there wouldn’t be smoke in the bag for a long, long while. Maybe he pushed a little too hard.

  He passed the medicine hall, food hall, and mission hall. With half his awareness inside the bag, he was tempted to stop and make a few sales. The amount of the beast blood he had was not ideal; it took a lot to make an overwhelming amount of lofty white World Energy with the Drinking-Stone.

  Just like in summer, most of the disciples who hunted and sold at a fair price hid away from the cold.

  It made selling beast parts easier. But Hao liked to wait for a request for a piece to pop up; they would pay a lot more for specific bones or claws, or furs they needed. Not to mention the recent relationship he built with the Forging Hall could make that profit stretch a long way.

  I might be getting a little greedy, he thought to himself, feeling the burgeoning Dantian so close, yet infinitely far away from forming.

  If he went all out, he might push up the stairs towards the Nine Rank of Reclamation. Or fall short and waste everything. If he could knock on the door or really step to the other side into the Peak of the Realm was another question. Diminishing returns were harsh now.

  Hao hoped that this practice with the herbs would make Cultivation more effective to mitigate those diminishing returns, but he couldn’t guarantee unloading his wealth would cost more than it was worth.

  A reckless leap of a demon, or a Buddha’s patience.

  There was a loud clap that pulled his attention from the Mission Hall, and Hao went on. Snow fell from the library roof to the ground. It was a sign enough for him to move on.

  Patience won today, for now.

  He passed the Library tower, his shoes buried in damp snow. The question of talent on his mind—it was a devilish question that haunted him—Is this bottleneck, roadblock, bump in his path something someone like the Elders ever met? Did someone as grotesque as Taoyi skip on by Reclamation and start cultivating spirit energy like it was nothing?

  At what cost? He remembered one of Meiqi’s sayings during his early etiquette lessons. “The prettiest flowers are often dragged into the greenhouse, held up by bamboo, and watered every day. The moment they meet the sun, the wind, or have to feed themselves, they dry, wilt, and fall over.”

  Well, right now, whoever is in front of me just has to be in the greenhouse long enough to knock me over. Hao looked back at the mission hall and the library.

  He shook his head and walked up the old, loose pebble path to the obsolete servant’s courtyard. The basin looked like a hand covered in snow.

  Hao stopped and stretched again. He took off his robes there and shook them until they were blue. His hands, face, and neck got a wash.

  All the while, the smell of Meiqi’s dry preserved meat tickled his nose, even when he was halfway down the path.

  He made the rest of the way up and saw a man outside his door. At first, he flushed with anger. But then remembered there were no servants or disciples that would normally come up.

  He got a little closer to making out the details. Not that he needed to, his guess at who this surprise guest was formed as soon as he saw sleeveless robes.

  The volcano of a man certainly wasn’t unwelcome. However, his presence brought up questions. Sat in the snow outside his home in the lotus position, with a trail of snow that melted under his breath. A pile of shaved wood chips in front of him.

  “Senior Brother Guan?” Hao asked, his hand cupped for a bow.

  The Senior’s eyes opened so fast they conjured a spiral of wind. “Junior. No need for formal greetings. There is something we need to talk about. But you should see your dependents first.”

  Senior Brother Guan slid to the side and presented the door to Hao with an outstretched hand.

  Meiqi didn’t prepare him for this situation.

  Hao nodded and stepped up past the senior and snuck inside.