Xu Qian already knew that magic artifacts existed. His uncle had once told him that in the battle of Shanhaiguan, the cannons had been decisive, and half of a cannon's power came from gunpowder, the other half from the formation carved upon it.
Magic artifacts were weapons unique to the Great Feng Dynasty, and the very reason it dared call itself the rightful ruler of the realm. At that moment Xu Qian realized they shared countless ties with the Directorate of Celestials.
Song Qing hesitated, then, faithful to the principle of sharing knowledge, answered: "It's hardly a secret. Do you know what the Fourth-Rank warlock is called?"
I don't even know what the Seventh-Rank of my martial system is... Xu Qian shook his head.
"The Formation Master!" Song Qing said. "Everything an Alchemist refines is but a mundane object. It is only when a Formation Master carves a formation onto it that it becomes a magic artifact."
Drawing on what he knew of the warlock path, and the information he had coaxed out of the beautiful Chu Caiwei, Xu Qian's mind raced. The Ninth-Rank Physician laid the foundation for the Eighth-Rank Qi Observer, and the Qi Observer for the Seventh-Rank Feng Shui Master. But the Feng Shui Master shared no connection with the next rank up—the Sixth-Rank Alchemist... So the Alchemist was meant to complement the Fourth-Rank Formation Master.
The Alchemist forged weapons of brute power, and the Formation Master processed them into artifacts... This warlock system had some genuine depth to it. No wonder the Chief Astronomer's standing in the dynasty was so exalted.
I absolutely must win over Chu Caiwei. No special reason—just to find a sincere love in this cold, heartless society. Xu Qian silently swore.
"The second item is the heart-guarding mirror. Its material is ordinary; the true treasure is the formation etched upon it. It withholds the full-force strike of a Qi Refining expert six times, a Spirit Refining expert three times, a Copper-Bone Tier expert once."
Copper-Bone Tier is the Sixth-Rank of the martial system? Xu Qian had finally learned his own Sixth-Rank's name.
"The last is called Bone-Eroding, Heart-Scorching. Coat your arrowheads with it and it can kill a Spirit Refining expert outright. It fails against Copper-Bone Tier, for the arrow cannot pierce his skin."
Xu Qian nodded. "All three, I like very much." He paused, then said: "That kind of alchemy—it's called grafting!"
Drawing on his past life's memories, Xu Qian told Song Qing about grafting, though not in any great detail. The process he left vague, but the advantages he spelled out thoroughly: how grafting improved a plant's resistance to cold, to drought, to pests, and how it enhanced the fruit's taste.
Just like the money-making experiment in his diary—rich in theory, disastrously weak in practice. That didn't matter, though, since he wasn't the one doing the practicing. If Song Qing failed, his skill was lacking; if he succeeded, the credit was all Xu Qian's.
Song Qing was practically floating, gesticulating wildly, wishing spring would come at once for this great alchemy. "A divine book, truly divine! That such an ancient alchemical text exists, and I never knew it!" he bellowed.
...
Tappity-tap. Xu Qian came down the steps of the Star Observation Tower at a light, quick pace, three magic artifacts in his bosom—things no money could measure.
"I could trade one on the black market for the mission to pry open Heaven's Gate... but these are all so useful I can't bear to part with them... As they say, getting something for nothing is the eternal wellspring of human joy... Tomorrow, the pleasure house it is."
He had taken not a single copper coin, yet what he had gained, turned into silver, could make his aunt kneel and yield in an instant, never daring to sneer again. Trade it all for banknotes, then slap her pretty face... He grew happier still.
"I stand in the wild, biting wind, longing to sweep away the ache in my heart. I gaze at the heavens, clouds stirring on all sides; sword in hand, I ask the world who is the hero..." Seeing no one about, he sang the tune from his past life with swelling pride.
He turned the corner and ran into a group of strangers, both parties locking eyes. ...How embarrassing! His song died in his throat, and he stepped aside, face betraying nothing.
Three men stood on the lower steps. The one in the center wore an indigo robe, temples frost-white, bearing elegant and cultured, eyes like deep, dark pools weathered by the frost of years. The sort of charismatic older man that makes young girls squeal.
To his left, a taciturn young man, eyes fixed ahead, meticulous and grave. To his right, a young man with a mocking curl to his lips and a wild, dangerous glint, exuding a soft, sinister air that made Xu Qian uncomfortable. Still, in looks, this sinister youth was the rare beauty who could rival his own Second Brother.
As they passed, the sinister youth snorted contemptuously, shooting him a sidelong glance. In that instant Xu Qian felt some terrifying thing fix its gaze on him; he held his breath, yet his heart pounded harder.
The three went on up, and only once they'd vanished past the bend did Xu Qian let out a relieved breath. "That guy seems dismissive of me—hostile, even. Was my lyric too arrogant?"
Well, some things need watching from now on. I can't go blurting things out, especially in public. Like: "I want the sky to no longer veil my eyes, the earth to no longer bury my heart; I would see every Buddha scatter to the winds." Or: "Only through sacrifice do great ambitions take root; dare I make the sun and moon exchange heaven for a new sky."
...
At the seventh floor, Song Qing, informed by his junior disciple, waited at the top of the stairs for the trio led by the man in indigo. Chu Caiwei gnawed a stick of sugarcane against the wall, idly keeping them company.
Song Qing bowed formally. "Lord Wei." The middle-aged man gave a slight nod. "My lord, my teacher has drunk his fill and naps. I must ask you to wait a while."
The stern-faced youth stayed expressionless; the sinister one frowned slightly. The cultured man seemed unconcerned, entering the tearoom with Song Qing and offhandedly noting: "Coming up the tower, I chanced upon an interesting young man. He didn't seem a disciple of the Directorate."
Chu Caiwei was about to speak when Song Qing stopped her with a look, then chuckled: "A mere nobody, hardly worth mention. Though rather amusing."
The Night Watchmen carried an ominous renown; to the officials they were tigers and wolves who could ruin a man without reason. Song Qing couldn't tell whether Xu Qian had offended this powerful eunuch unknowingly.
"Amusing?" The man smiled gently. "In what way?" Song Qing hesitated, then assessed: "A genius of alchemy. Had he not strayed onto the wrong path, had he joined the Directorate, his name would be written in the annals of history." He spoke no word against his conscience, and hinted the Directorate set store by Xu Qian. The sinister youth sneered. The cultivated man nodded slightly, smiling.
...
The Xu residence, inner courtyard. Xu Qian's aunt and her maidservants were cutting fabric, drawing lines, stuffing cotton, making winter coats.
Lü E finished the final stitch, bit through the thread with her silver teeth, and admired the embroidered lotuses, thinking how lovely little Lingyin would look. "Madam," she said softly, "yesterday I found the eldest young master with no winter coat—still in autumn clothes." His aunt glanced at her and snorted: "What are you trying to say?" "Make one for him too, madam," Lü E murmured. "Not a chance! That little wretch seizes every chance to provoke me. No door." The maidservants worked on, pretending not to hear.
"He comes to eat here every day and never helps with household expenses." "But his grain stipend goes to the household, doesn't it?" Lü E muttered. "With his appetite, he can barely feed himself." His aunt rolled her pretty eyes forcefully. That wretched nephew—she'd been willing to mend things, since he'd saved the family's lives. But no, the wretch kept throwing barbs at her, determined to grind against her. A wolf roams a thousand miles and eats meat; a dog roams a thousand miles and eats filth. The old saying couldn't be truer.
The steward came hurrying over, halting outside the courtyard: "Madam, the master has returned."