Heart of Cultivation 2. A Fallen Prodigy (2) (Patreon)

< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter > 

Jian and Lanfen continued along without any further interruption and were soon standing outside of the small workshop that had been set aside for Jian's use. He balanced the box of supplies on one leg in order to free up a hand so that he could fish a copper token from his pocket. The face of the token was marked with the Guo family's symbol, while the back bore an identifying number. More importantly, the front had a small circle of conductive crystal shining out from the copper. He tapped the crystal to the exposed crystal in the locking mechanism, then returned the token to his pocket and took a secure hold on his box of supplies as the door clicked open.

A nudge of the shoulder was enough to send the door swinging fully open. He led Lanfen inside of the room that had hosted the majority of his waking hours for the last month. It wasn't much to look at, not on the surface. And, in truth, not to the penetrating gaze of a real expert, either. To Jian, though, it was a heaven sent opportunity granted to him by the grace of Elder Zhen.

The most obvious feature of the room was the work table at its center. It was as wide as Jian's reach when he stretched both arms to the sides, and about twice that distance in length. The table's surface was grey stone, sanded smooth by painstaking effort. It was largely empty, other than the racks of tools stacked to one side. As always, Jian's survey of the table paused at the magnifying lens that was attached to a cleverly articulated arm clamped to the side of the table. The clearest mark of his own progress as a craftsman was that Elder Zhen had been willing to lend him such a valuable tool.

Behind the table, the wall was hidden by an array of cabinets, shelves, and storage drawers. Jian set his box of supplies on top of the work table and made his way to a drawer that held Lanfen's gift, noting along the way that the indicator he had left guarding the cabinet holding his personal project was undisturbed. Opening the drawer revealed a small velvet cushion, atop which nestled a golden butterfly. Close examination would reveal that the lifelike design was made up of an artful arrangement of metal wire, perched atop a simple hairpin. Hair thin markings scratched into the wire were the only evidence of the painstaking formations work that had occupied Jian for most of the last week.

He plucked the unfinished piece of jewelry from its resting place and turned to his work table.

The next order of business was to assemble his tools. Jian shifted a padded vise to the center of the table and gently clamped it shut around the hairpin, just enough to hold it in place. He pulled two metal pens from their spots on the storage rack and laid them down next to the vice. Finally, he rummaged through the storage box and plucked out a fractional spirit stone that fit his needs.

He had to suppress a sigh as the sight of the spirit stone sent a familiar wave of bittersweet emotion through him. As a crafter, much of his work was made possible by drawing on the energy contained within spirit stones. As a cultivator stuck in the realm of Essence Gathering, though, he would never be able to make direct use of the stones' spiritual energy.

Higher level cultivators could draw on the energy contained within spirit stones to replace spiritual energy that they had expended, either in training or to fuel their mystical arts. They could also use their own spiritual energy to recharge a drained stone. Though it was a distraction from their training, it did mean that no high level cultivator ever risked starving to death for a lack of funds, not when a fully charged spirit stone was worth four large silver coins and a drained spirit stone could be bought for two.

Jian wasn't working with anything nearly so valuable, of course. The standard size for what was called one full spirit stone was as small as they could be cut without hurting their ability to store energy. Fractional spirit stones were less efficient by volume, and became even less efficient as they were cut smaller and smaller. The fingernail sized fragments he was using barely held enough energy for even a Body Tempering cultivator to notice, if it were used in the usual fashion.

He cupped the stone gently in the palm of his hand and held it under the magnifying lens. Drained, the spirit stone looked like clear glass as he slowly rolled it around. A faceted spirit stone should be cut to a standard shape, but every craftsman had his own idea what the standard entailed, and small fractional stones like this one weren't always treated with the greatest care.

Jian clicked his tongue as he spotted a deviation. He could shave the stone down to size, but that was painstaking work. He was also loathe to lose more of the stone's already miniscule ability to store energy. Instead, he made careful note of the stone's actual shape before setting it to the side.

He then brought the vise holding his almost completed work to the center of the table. He adjusted the lens until it was focused on what would be the butterfly's head. At the moment, it was an empty bowl. The tracery of formation lines flowed down the butterfly's body and up the neck only to end before plunging into the shallow depression that would hold the spirit stone.

Jian picked up one of the metal pens and twisted the blunt end. With a click, its empowering formation engaged and a small glowing filament extended from the tip of the pen. He held it under the magnifying lens and watched the tip waver with every breath. He then focused his will internally, finding spiritual energy wafting about within him. An effort of will sent the energy flowing to his right arm. A proper cultivator could empower himself in this way to punch through tree trunks. Jian was satisfied to see the tip of the pen slow in its wavering until it was still.

As soon as the pen held steady, he went to work. The glowing filament left glowing lines behind as he drew it along the edges of the shallow bowl, gradually working his way inside. The standard formation for drawing power was something he'd practiced a thousand times over. Modifying it to fit the spirit stone on hand was relatively straightforward. In moments, the small bowl was covered by the glowing web of a formation.

Jian set the pen aside and studied the formation for a moment. Finding no errors, he picked up and activated the other pen. As he traced it over the lines, it engraved the actual formation into the surface of the metal. When he was done, the glowing web had been transformed into a subtle etching.

Setting the pen to the side, Jian stepped back and stretched, working the kinks out of his lower back. Lanfen, who had been occupying herself studying the reference charts that covered almost every inch of the walls, turned back to the work table. Jian handed her the drained spirit stone. A moment later, she handed it back, now glowing with stored spiritual energy.

Now came the moment of truth. Feeling slightly self conscious, Jian leaned over to bring his face closer the golden butterfly. A higher level cultivator could open meridians that allowed them to send spiritual energy out of their body at a point of their choosing, but Jian could only gather and release spiritual energy through respiration. Once he was near enough that his nose was almost touching the formation, he guided some of his internal energy to his lungs and exhaled. The gaseous spiritual energy, carrying just a touch of his will, was enough to activate the dormant formations with a barely noticeable twinkle. 

He quickly took the charged spiritual stone and slotted it in place. For a dreadful moment, nothing happened. Then a wash of color moved down from the butterfly's head. The wings, which had been merely outlined in gold wire, now filled in with a pattern of colors much like a living butterfly, touched by a gentle glow.

Jian held back a sigh of relief as he passed the completed hairpin over to Lanfen.

She cooed as the butterfly held in the palm of her hand flapped its wings.  "How wonderful!"

A large part of him wanted to grin like a loon, but Jian did his best to maintain his professional facade. "I'm glad you like it."

She looked up from the butterfly to fix him with a serious glare. "Nobody else will get one for a month."

Jian nodded. "As we agreed."

The end of year celebrations were almost upon them. The Guo family's traditional celebration included a spectacular banquet, attended by all the notable people of Bianjing Town. Lanfen would be the only girl there with the unique butterfly hairpin. She'd have a few more chances to show it off over the next month. After that, the other girls would be able to order their own.

Jian couldn't build anything with the kind of raw power that would serve as a useful weapon for cultivators making their way in a treacherous world. It was a pity, as it was a lucrative market. He had instead chosen to begin his career by building weapons to serve in the treacherous world of teenage fashion. While he hadn't charged Lanfen for her hairpin, he still expected to make a healthy profit overall.

Lanfen's eyes narrowed. She didn't seem comforted by his easy agreement. "You'll even say no to Lihua?"

Lihua was the daughter of the second son of the clan's head. Six months younger than Lanfen, the two had been best friends and worst enemies while they were growing up. Lately they seemed to have settled into a steady rivalry.

"I could never say no to one of my favorite cousins," Jian said, placing a hand over his heart. "I will make hers as quickly as I can. Unfortunately, it requires certain materials that I won't be able to buy until the Hong family caravan returns to town."

That would also be the line he would take when Lanfen demanded that he duplicate Lihua's new brooch. It was mostly true, in that neither girl understood crafting well enough to know which common materials could be used to substitute for difficult to find items.

"Somehow, I feel like you're very reliable," Lanfen said, tapping the side of her cheek with her fan, "but I shouldn't trust you."

Jian brought his other hand over his heart as he gave a theatrical stagger. "Cousin, you wound me."

She dismissed his antics with a wave of her hand before returning her attention to the hairpin. "This really is lovely. Meirong is a lucky girl."

All of the levity Jian was feeling vanished in an instant. "Please don't joke about that."

Meirong and her grandfather had been the last survivors of the once great Wang family. Jian's father had saved the two of them from disaster when Jian was still an infant. They had lived with the Guo family until Meirong turned ten before moving back to the Imperial Capital. The little girl who used to follow he and Lanfen around in their childish games was now known as the jewel of the Heavenly Sword Sect and the youngest cultivator to reach the Core Formation stage in over a century.

"Who's joking?" she asked, flashing him a wicked smile over her fan. "You're still engaged, you know."

Meirong's grandfather and Jian's father had agreed to engage the two of them. It was a mark of the gratitude the Wang patriarch felt for his father's lifesaving act. It had also appeared at the time to be a good match. The two children had gotten along well, and Jian had seemed to have a bright future ahead of him. When the Wang family left Bianjing Town, he was still short of his eleventh birthday and looked for all the world like a cultivation prodigy.

"A mere formality, as you well know," Jian replied. "It was a nice idea that long since turned into a bad joke."

Childhood friendship wasn't enough to change the basic facts of the situation. Matching the pearl of the Empire with a man who had peaked at eleven was wildly inappropriate. Jian wanted nothing more than for the ridiculous engagement to be annulled so that he could settle down into a comfortable life. Unfortunately, both his father and her grandfather would have to come together in order to set the engagement aside without undue embarrassment, and both of the old men seemed intent on ignoring the matter instead of risking a loss of face.

"You're overthinking a simple matter," Lanfen said. "All you need to do is find the right time to push her down and make her your woman. Everything else will work itself out."

"Simple?" Jian asked. "She's halfway through Core Formation."

Forget pushing her down, he'd be leery of any kind of intimate contact with a woman who could so easily break him in half.

"I said simple, not easy," Lanfen replied. "You know, nobody worthwhile is going to find a quitter very attractive."

Sometimes, he wondered where Lanfen got her ideas on romance. At the very least, his romantic prospects would be better if he were alive than if he were dead. Taking her advice to heart was far more likely to get him killed than married. 

Well, however the idea had gotten into her head, he certainly wasn't getting it out. Instead, he inclined his head, keeping his expression neutral. "I'll keep your advice in mind, cousin."

Lanfen shook her head and took her leave, tucking her new hairpin away in a pocket and clucking her tongue in disappointment before she slipped out the door. Jian shook his own head once she was out of sight.

It was good for a cultivator to have ambitions, but it was also important for a man to understand his own limitations. Jian had spent quite some time raging against fate back when he had realized that he had reached the limit of his own cultivation. In the end, though, he could only accept what he could not change. 

He didn't expect to meet Meirong again, let alone marry her. Their fates had parted ways years ago.

Jian turned to face his storage wall. He spared a glance for his personal project, before directing his attention to another drawer. Lihua's brooch wasn't going to finish itself. With a week to go before the big end of year feast he should have plenty of time to finish, but there was no sense taking chances.

He spent the rest of the afternoon bent over the work table etching formation patterns into the small piece of jewelry. He'd gotten through most of the work that would create the illusion of a bud opening up to become a flowering rose and was feeling pleased with his progress when a knock drew his attention.

A moment later a message slip was passed under the door. Jain frowned. It was unusual for anybody to bother him when he was working. Most of the family had adopted a policy of out of sight, out of mind once he had lost his status as a young prodigy.

His frown deepened as he read the message. A delegation from the Heavenly Sword Sect would be visiting the family after dinner this evening. It seemed his fate with Meirong wasn't exhausted just yet.

< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >