Two brothers of the same blood. One was the Academy's darling. The other lived alone in a corner of the clan.
The gap between them was enough to drive a man mad. But on Wang Yuan's face there was no bitterness at all. From start to finish, he simply ate, calm and even.
As if eating were the most important thing in the world.
His pace was steady, his manners fine. He finished his knuckles and greens, swallowed the last of his rice, and looked at his younger brother. His voice was gentle: "Changxiang, what brings you here?"
"Nothing important. I just finished a mission and thought I'd come talk with you."
"Eat your greens, child. Meat alone won't do." Wang Yuan stroked the orange cat, which was gnawing a knuckle, coaxing it in a soft voice. Then he turned to Wang Hao: "Speak. You seem weighed down."
"We went to investigate Little Grove Town going silent. When we got there, the whole place was sealed in fog — even the Bone-Breath Whirlwind couldn't cut it. The town was crawling with ghosts, arranged on a Nine Palace base into a Nine Palace Wrath-Ghost Array... Xiao Ju!" Wang Hao's voice cracked mid-sentence.
The fat cat had lost patience with Wang Yuan's vegetable coaxing. It swiped him — three red scratches across the back of his hand.
"You're fierce today." Wang Yuan sighed, gave up on making the cat eat greens, covered the wounds on his right hand with his left, and said to Wang Hao: "These arts and arrays you speak of, I don't understand them."
Wang Hao lowered his head, and his voice sank with it. "But somehow, I just wanted to tell you."
Wang Yuan rubbed his brow. "Then tell me. Tell me."
"Do you know, brother? Someone used the living of all Little Grove Town, gathered every lingering soul of the Maple City region, and condensed the reflection of the Ghost Gate before City Lord Wei arrived — then left!" In this moment, Wang Hao sounded like a child showing off a prize.
"The reflection of the Ghost Gate? Is it strong?"
"With such a price paid, of course it's extraordinary! With the reflection in hand, one could reach the Netherworld at any time. Netherworld arts would gain at least half again in power! Ghost-driving arts could cross ranks entirely." He lowered his brows again. "Who knows what evil that hidden villain will do with it now."
"The Punishment Bureau will handle it. If Wei Lin can't, there's the prefect. If the city Academy can't hold, there's the prefectural one, and behind that, the national Academy. Don't worry yourself." Wang Yuan soothed him.
The cat had by then licked its knuckle clean. It ignored the plate of greens entirely, cleaned its paw, and strutted away, head high.
Wang Yuan rose and gathered the dishes.
"I won't keep you." He said this just before stepping inside.
Wang Hao watched his brother's back vanish into the house, then turned to leave. But as he passed the lounging chair where the cat lay, his little finger flicked.
A blade of wind, invisible, streaked across.
The cat shot upright, eyes darting, uncertain. Half of its long whiskers drifted to the ground.
"Scratch my brother again... hmph." Wang Hao left with a smile on his lips.
But he remembered: when they were small, how his brother had dreamed of Dao arts. How he had loved that extraordinary world. And now, whatever he said of it, he showed not a ripple.
As if he had made his peace with this life.
Wang Hao's steps could not be light.
* * *
Today's lesson: the Flame Blade, a D-Rank mid-grade Dao art. It was the advancement of the D-Rank low-grade Flame Attach, and one of the foundations of fire Dao.
It gathered flame into a blade, striking the enemy directly with burning fire element force. It worked well enough against unclean things like yin ghosts.
An art like this already outclassed any weapon of common iron.
Jiang Chen knew the hand seals and warnings by heart. But his mind drifted to Wei Feng's saber — that edge was extraordinary, no ordinary weapon. At Wei Feng's level, common iron was only a burden.
He thought of Li Yun's sword, always hanging at his waist. That, too, must be something rare.
His eyes grew hot. His own sword had been half-ruined cutting down the wrath ghosts. He had bought a replacement with his own money — still common refined iron. Real sword treasures, he could not afford. Had no way to buy.
He wondered what weapons the martial cultivators wielded, those who entered the Dao through force of arms.
He was so lost in thought that he missed the mood of the classroom, until Ling Chuan nudged him.
The lecturer was a man of nearly sixty, old-fashioned and severe, surnamed Xiao. The students called him Xiao Ironface behind his back.
By then Ironface had finished his demonstration and drawn a few students by lot to practice. When Fang Lin was picked, he stumbled through the art — the flame blade wobbled, but he finished it.
Even Ironface was somewhat pleased. Then this one said: "Junior Brother Jiang opened his meridian ahead of me. Why not have him try this art too? If anything goes wrong, we can ask the master for guidance."
Ironface's eyes landed on the daydreaming Jiang Chen.
Trouble. Jiang Chen rose from his cushion, honestly: "I haven't laid my foundation yet."
Fang Lin, who entered the inner Academy at the same time, could already cast Dao arts. Jiang Chen could not even finish his foundation. The other students' eyes went strange.
"If you haven't laid your foundation, you don't have to listen?" Ironface glared. He hated slackers most of all. Men who had stepped onto the path of the extraordinary and did not treasure it, treating it as a trinket to show off before commoners.
"I was wrong." Jiang Chen bowed his head without pride.
Ironface said coldly: "Copy the Violet Classic a hundred times. Until it's done, my lessons are closed to you."
"Yes." Jiang Chen bowed, groaning inside. The Violet Classic's full name was the Supreme Violet Dao Scripture — the foundational canon of the Yujing Mountain line. Every Daoist of that line knew it by heart. There was no need to copy it. This was pure punishment.
Worst of all, the canon ran to nearly thirty thousand characters... How long would that take?
But he could not refuse. Ironface's temper was such that he might roll up his sleeves and beat him.
Jiang Chen forced himself to focus through the rest of the lesson, not daring to slack. He barely endured until Ironface walked off with his hands behind his back. Then Fang Lin sauntered over, smug as ever.
"Ah, Junior Brother Jiang, my apologies. I had no idea you hadn't laid your foundation!" In Dao cultivation, order follows strength, so Fang Lin had smoothly switched from "brother" to "junior." His tone dripped regret: "After I opened my meridian, it took me fifty-three days to complete my foundation. I thought that was far too slow, and felt ashamed. I assumed a man of Junior Brother Jiang's reputation had long since finished... Ah, what a thing to have happened."
The standard foundation array of Zhuang's Dao Academies, the Primordial Array, had eighty-one formation points. At two Dao essence crystals per day from the twice-daily channeling sessions, fifty-three days was hardly slow — and that ignored the false placements that stalled progress.
The fastest foundation in the city Academy's history was Zhu Weiwo: nine days, smashing every record. At that impossible speed, his meridian spirit could not possibly be a mere Earthworm grade like Jiang Chen's. But what grade it truly was touched private matters; no one could know.
For an ordinary Maple City Academy disciple, sixty to ninety days was normal.
No wonder Fang Lin preened.
He did not hide the challenge in his eyes. He wanted to see this proud man lose his temper. In his head he was already scripting the duel — how he would solve this sword-fond rustic with a single art, beautifully.
Jiang Chen just smiled, and turned to leave.
No anger. No care at all.