Every person in the forge stood frozen with astonishment.
Qin Mu's Supreme Body's qi actually had an attribute now—the fire attribute, unmistakably Vermilion Bird qi!
The Deaf was about to cheer when the Village Chief said, "Deaf, hold your joy a moment. Mu'er, now watch the water; don't think about anything."
Qin Mu did as he was told. In his Spirit Womb Divine Treasury the flowing qi turned to a gurgling stream that tempered his Spirit Womb. The tiny forge was crammed with villagers who had rushed over—Old Ma, the Cripple, the Butcher, the Herbalist, the Blind One—all watching him, not daring to draw a loud breath.
The Chief's voice came to him: "Do you remember the spear art the Blind One taught you? Imagine a spear in your hand, and thrust one spear-strike!"
Qin Mu raised his hand and thrust. The tip flickered, shaking out great ring after ring—and in that empty-handed thrust his qi surged out as snow-white vapor forming a long spear in his very hand, while rushing water sounded and the vapor coiled like a water dragon he shook into ring after ring!
"It's done, it's done..." Old Ma wept with joy, tears rolling: "Finally it's done, after all these years of toil... Mu'er, you've grown up..." He turned his head away, wiping his tears with his one remaining arm.
The Cripple wore a simple, honest grin: "Our Mu'er can survive in the Great Ruins now... confound it, old Ma, stop wiping your eyes! Grandma Si has gone off buying in Xianglong City—if she were here, she'd be the one sobbing loudest!"
"What's there to cry about?" The Herbalist's eyes were red, but he laughed: "We should laugh! Even if we die of old age, Mu'er can live on his own. That's the greatest good fortune!"
"Exactly!" The Deaf roared: "Herbalist, I've never yielded you respect, but that line of yours wins mine!"
The tiny forge shook with laughter that rang out to the heavens, and Qin Mu watched these excited old men around him, a warm tide surging through his heart. These elders, each with some maiming, fierce and terrible to look upon—they were his kin, his dearest kin.
Then a voice sounded from outside—Grandma Si, chuckling: "What are you old codgers cackling in here about like a pack of ghosts?"
Qin Mu was astounded and overjoyed. Grandma Si had finally returned from Xianglong City! Before long the Cripple blurted out the great tidings, and Grandma Si too was startled and delighted, her eyes reddening as she smiled: "Good news, Mu'er has finally grown up..." She thought of the eleven years she had labored over him, wept teardrop after teardrop, and sat down to wipe her eyes: "If we die someday, Mu'er can live on after all... don't touch me, my eyes are big and the wind's blown sand in them..."
The Village Chief quietly let out a breath. The cloud that had weighed on his heart finally lifted now that Qin Mu's Supreme Body qi bore an attribute; he could use his qi and make it unleash its power, confirming him as the true "Supreme Body"—and a crisis hanging over the village was averted.
Still, the Chief could not help pondering: how had Qin Mu's qi come by attributes so suddenly? And strangest of all—both water AND fire. He knew a spirit body bore a single attribute, never two. Qin Mu was plainly of common talent, yet he had two, and two that could not stand together at that.
"Do all common folk, after awakening their Spirit Womb, become dual spirit bodies?" He dazed: "What did the Mute teach him? Could any common man do the same?"
He knew the villagers had tried every means: the Herbalist with medicine, the Cripple, the Butcher, and Old Ma with frantic training, the Blind One by handing over his spirit eye, the Deaf by having Qin Mu turn painting into his Way. But what the Mute had done, the Chief could not say. It had never occurred to him that it would be the Mute who at last unleashed the might of the Supreme Body qi. All he knew was that the Mute had Qin Mu watch fire and watch water—and how that worked was beyond him.
The Mute was the village smith, never showing his brilliance. In the village, the Blind One was the flashiest, the Butcher the most flamboyant, Old Ma the warmest-hearted beneath a cold face, the Cripple the most scheming behind a smile, the Herbalist the most dependable, the Deaf the freest of desire, Grandma Si the most changeable—and the Mute the most slow-witted. Of him the Chief knew almost nothing, only that his tongue was cut out and that he forged weapons masterfully. Yet for giving Qin Mu's qi its power, the Mute's attainment ranked likely the highest in the village—after the Chief himself.
"Mu'er, can you refine qi into threads now?" Grandma Si asked.
Qin Mu tried to gather his qi into a fine thread—and the next instant it burst out of his body, arm-thick and wreathed in flame. This bulky "qi thread" swept up the pig-slaughtering knife and cleft a wooden post as thick as a bucket with terrifying power!
The villagers looked at that arm-thick qi thread, each wordless in turn. Potent as it was, refining qi into threads meant making a fine, delicate thread—swift, versatile, able to drive a treasured sword. Qin Mu's could not rightly be called a thread; it might better be called a qi arm. And a thread so thick consumed his qi enormously.
The Cripple scratched his head: "I think a qi arm isn't half bad. It's like an extra arm, and it'd strike fierce in a fight."
Grandma Si shook her head: "A thread is far more nimble. A qi arm is too thick and brawny. Mu'er, refine your qi into threads as soon as you can."
Qin Mu nodded. Only while watching the fire could he give his qi the fire attribute, akin to Vermilion Bird qi; otherwise it stayed plain. And to watch the flame while refining threads was still hard for him.
The Chief and the others saw the trouble too: Qin Mu could bring out fire only while watching fire, water only while watching water—a dire disadvantage in battle, for the enemy would never give him the leisure! They had thought his dual attributes enormously formidable; now they were less sure.
"Ah, ah!" The Mute gesticulated, smiling simply.
The Deaf understood and laughed: "The Mute's right. Mu'er has only just caught the knack. Practice makes perfect—he'll surely master it!"
A qi bearing both water and fire was like awakening both a Black Tortoise body and a Vermilion Bird body at once: fire when he watched fire, water when he watched water.
About the village, Qin Mu wielded an arm-thick qi thread to practice the Butcher's Pig-Slaughtering Knife Art, the blade flitting about until it sometimes nearly cleft him in two; whenever danger loomed, the Blind One thrust a bamboo staff between to fend it off. Driving the sword with qi must be cultivated step by step and was fiercely dangerous. The Butcher's art was martial-technique school; though he had absorbed some strengths of the divine-arts school, the two differed enormously. Old Ma's Eight Thunder Moves were pure martial-technique school; Grandma Si's Demon Art of Creation was sorcery; the Cripple's leg arts, the Blind One's staff art, the Deaf's painting, the Herbalist's alchemy, the Mute's smithing—none could train driving the sword with qi. So Qin Mu had no choice but the hazardous Pig-Slaughtering Knife Art.
At the village's edge the Village Chief basked lazily, the Herbalist beside him. Glancing back at Qin Mu's desperate training, the Herbalist said: "The Blind One passed his spirit eye to Mu'er, the Butcher his knife art, the Cripple his leg art, the Deaf his painting... what about you, Village Chief?"
The Chief turned his head.
The Herbalist pressed on: "None of us is deep in driving the sword with qi. Your vision and your skill surpass any of us. Why not pass it on? Whose sword art in all the world could be stronger than yours?"
The Chief sank into gloom. "I would pass it on," he said softly, "but Mu'er cannot bear it. Even when I had all four limbs I could not bear it, or I would not have hidden in the Great Ruins... Do you know how I lost my hands and feet?"
The Herbalist shook his head.
"It was a sword wound." The Chief raised his head, face wooden: "My hands and feet were hewn off by a sword. To pass on my art is to take up my responsibility. I cannot bear it—and he, as he is now, even less."