The Four Spirit Body-Tempering Art: the Azure Dragon in the east, attributing to Wood. Jiang Wang savored the vitality, feeling his blood-qi grow. Whether it was his fancy or not, the Dao essence newly born within his Heaven-Access Palace seemed more nimble by a touch, which did somewhat shrink the difficulty of arranging the array-points. To nourish the flesh direct with Wood-element vital qi, even before the Heaven-Earth Gate was thrown open — this was one of the advantages of the War School's methods.
The Four Spirit Body-Tempering Art tempers the bones with Metal vital qi, quenches the frame with Fire vital qi, warms the flesh and blood with Water vital qi, and bolsters the growth of blood-qi with Wood vital qi besides — complete indeed, and fit for the great Dao. For Jiang Wang, he had no thought of switching to the War School, nor of trying to force his meridian open with blood-qi. Yet the growing force of his blood-qi could equally feed back into his Dao essence, quickening his gathering of a Dao Spiral.
Before, he could manage only two or three meridian-forging sessions a day; the rest of his time had gone to sword-training and studying the Dao canon. But now the Purple Qi from the East Sword Art had reached a plateau — at least, for him as he was — so that turning aside to temper his body did not delay his cultivation. The prospect of the Celestial Star-Dou Foundation-Establishing Formation Diagram looked very fine indeed, but it was truly too arduous and slow.
And yet Jiang Wang felt no anxiety. When he was very small, his father had told him: a ginseng ninety-nine years old can be sold for a hundred taels of silver, but if one were willing to wait one year more, the price of a century-old ginseng is reckoned in gold. Waiting was not in vain; some futures are worth the wait. So even though all manner of idle rumor circulated through the Dao Academy — how Fang Heling was nearly ready to condense his second Dao Spiral, how this fellow and that had already opened his meridian and would soon leap ahead — Jiang Wang kept to his steady course, unhurried, unfazed. Morning bell, evening drum; day and night, without cease.
...
The tenth month was also called the Dew Month, for autumn gone and winter coming, the dew grows abundant, and thus it got its name. For the folk of Fenglin City, the most important matter of this tenth month was beyond doubt the Three-City Dao Debate. As the name said, the Three-City Dao Debate was a joint performance-and-competition of the Dao Academies of three neighboring cities, meant for mutual sparring and mutual tempering — in reality, preparation for the Commandery Dao Academy Test held each November. City Dao Academies throughout Zhuang held similar events, differing only in name. For instance, in the Daishan Commandery, the "North Wind Performing Snow," organized around Blue Mist City and White Deer City, was drawn from the verse, "In Mengdong, the tenth month, the north wind lingers" — far more elegant and delightful, and had even become a festivity well known near and far, drawing many visitors each year. And in truth it was nothing more than a joint performance-competition of the surrounding five cities.
By contrast, the Three-City Dao Debate was far plainer and more workaday. There was no help for it — the three neighboring cities were Wangjiang City, Fenglin City, and Sanshan City. Fenglin City went without saying: plainness was its style. The red maples of its outskirts blazed like fire, not without their beauty, yet the single poem with any name to it was written by a cultivator of Blue Mist City passing through. Wangjiang City was a money-grubber to the bone, caring nothing for elegance. Sanshan City was simpler still — its folk were to this day scorned as mountain savages. Such was the bottom of the three cities; there was nothing more to be said. Yet as the years had worn on, the debate had gradually grown beyond mere sparring among students; to some degree it reflected the strength and weakness of the three cities, influencing the allocation of resources by the Zhuang court, and so it had taken on a fierce import.
This year, the turn had fallen to Fenglin City, and all of Fenglin — from the city lord on high down to the common folk — watched with great attention. Every grand tavern had hung up lanterns and streamers; the authorities had tightened public order until thieves vanished overnight. Within the Fenglin City Dao Academy, there was likewise a selection to be made.
...
"So that is how matters stand." Wei Quji and Dong A appeared together at the same time, a rarity, yet neither would sit, both standing upon the dais. "By custom," said Wei Quji, dark-skinned, eyes severe, genuinely alarming when he did not smile, "the city Dao Academy selects two students from each of the first-year, third-year, and fifth-year classes to take part in this performance. Let me be direct: you must win and not lose. As for those who lose — don't blame me, Wei, for giving them the boot." The "first-year students" were those who had cultivated in the academy about a year; in truth, the main strength was drawn from the previous cohort, who had cultivated for over a year already — and so with third-year and fifth-year. The reason no students of more than five years took part was that those who had not managed to enter the Commandery Dao Academy after five years had essentially given up on cultivation, turning to worldly riches and ease.
A city lord who spoke so bluntly could not but set the academy students below the dais on edge. Some who had planned to make their names at the Three-City Dao Debate began at once to waver.
"One victory in the first-year class earns ten points of Dao Merit," said Dong A, supplying warm-up pleasantries with his mouth while his face kept its cold severity. "Thirty points for a third-year win, fifty for the fifth-year class." The one a black face, the other a cold face — they set each other off well enough. Only, the two greatest figures of Fenglin City had, without consultation, both shown how heavily they weighed this performance. It touched not only the allotting of resources; it was also the embodiment of their governance, their very face — all the more so after an entire Little Grove Town had sunk to wasteland, when Fenglin City was in urgent need of raising a strong voice.
"I shall call out the names directly. Any who feel their strength inadequate and wishes to withdraw — speak now." Since this debate weighed so much, Dong A did not resort to voluntary sign-up, but named them straight: "This debate, Zhang Linchuan will lead..." Below the dais, Zhang Linchuan pressed his brow very helplessly and muttered: "I'm under a lot of pressure here."
"Pressure, are you?" From the dais, Dong A's gaze had already dropped down. With the cultivation of a fifth-grade master, let alone a mutter — even a fart he could find its owner in the first instant.
"But I'm full of confidence!" Zhang Linchuan said at once.
Only then did Dong A let him be, and went on reading the other names.
"Senior Brother Zhang, worthy of the name — even the headmaster acknowledges you as the foremost of our academy!" Huang Azhan, toadying, whispered obsequiously at his side. Zhang Linchuan had come late to the academy today, and had purposely not gone to the front, standing instead with Jiang Wang and the rest — perhaps hoping to be overlooked by the headmaster. Yet still he was singled out in the first instant.
"If Zhu Weiwo and Wei Yan could both go, would it fall to my hard work?" Zhang Linchuan glared at Huang Azhan with a clear-headed glare — he had no wish to have Wei Yan come hunting him with his blade tomorrow. But he promptly covered his nose with a handkerchief. "How long has it been since you bathed?"
"A man, a real man — how can he waste time on bathing?" Huang Azhan declared with righteousness, then bowed his head and sniffed a time or two. "No smell..."
Zhang Linchuan, quite disgusted, edged two steps away.
Wei Yan belonged to the Ministry of War, so it was natural he could not join in a debate between Dao Academies. But why was Zhu Weiwo not there either? Was not such a leading figure exactly one who ought to appear at such a time? Jiang Wang asked what came to mind: "Why can't Senior Brother Zhu go?"
"Oh — off chasing down the Swallow-Heart Human Demon, I think." Zhang Linchuan said carelessly.
"!!!" "!!!"
Jiang Wang, Ling He, and Huang Azhan were struck dumb, all at once.
Chasing down? How fierce was the renown of the Nine Human Demons! Ravaging the many kingdoms, committing evils without number, well fit to be called the greatest scoundrels under heaven. Even Xiong Wen, who had earned his place by cruel means and was the weakest of the Nine — he was still a sixth-grade master who had opened the Heaven-Earth Gate, a cultivator worthy to be called a Dragon-Rising one. A ninth-grade cultivator arranges array-points with Dao essence and establishes his Dao Spiral to complete his foundation. His Dao-meridian's true spirit leaping through the Spiral — this is the Wandering-Meridian Realm. An eighth-grade cultivator establishes three Dao Spirals and builds a minor Zhou Heavenly circulation within the Heaven-Access Palace — this is the Zhou Heavenly Circulation Realm. A seventh-grade cultivator establishes three minor Zhou Heavenly circulations — of Heaven, Earth, and Man — completes the great Zhou Heavenly circulation, then opens through his very flesh and scours the Heaven-Access Palace, and the great dragon of his Dao meridian awakens, and only then may he behold the Heaven-Earth Gate — this is the Heaven-Access Realm.
The sealing of that Heaven-Earth Gate, which closes the Heaven-Access Palace, is also called the first pass of cultivation. Only when one has opened the Heaven-Earth Gate can one see one's nature clearly and let the meridian's dragon rise. Before the sixth grade, the regulation Dao robe of any academy disciple could only be of hemp — to show that one feared no hardship, and held a heart that would cleave through thorns and brambles. And once past the sixth grade, an expert of the middle three grades might wear the Dragon-Rising Dao Robe. The three realms of Dragon-Rising, Inner Palace, and Outer Chamber were distinguished only by the smallest details. It was a symbol of standing, the embodiment of honor. Any cultivator worthy to don the Dragon-Rising Dao Robe could be called strong. How much more so Xiong Wen, with his baleful renown — a master among Dragon-Rising cultivators. And now, Zhu Weiwo — a mere student of a city Dao Academy — was chasing him down?