Chapter 154 — One Mark at Nineteen

CHAPTER 154

One Mark at Nineteen

Zheng Hui placed the assay sheet beside the furnace record.

“Pass,” Zheng Hui said.

Shi Feng let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding quite so carefully. He had known the pill was sound when the last measuring stone brightened. Hearing the tower's judgment still felt different.

The examiner stamped both sheets.

“Your medicine clears the minimum potency by a useful margin,” Zheng Hui said. “The stability is good. The cooling correction kept it that way, though you should practise doing it with less loss.”

“I will,” Shi Feng replied.

Zheng Hui took the remaining pill from the assay cup and sealed it in a small bottle.

“The practical sample stays with the certification record,” Zheng Hui said. “You'll receive the written result below. Don't describe this as mastery of all Golden Core medicine. It certifies that you've met the first Mark's practical standard.”

Shi Feng nodded.

He had no desire to promise clients recipes his own hands couldn't finish.

Wen An was checking a stack of receipts when he returned to the lower desk.

She looked at the examiner's stamp, then checked the age entry again.

“Nineteen,” Wen An said.

“Yes,” Shi Feng replied.

“The birth record was already verified,” Zheng Hui said from the stair behind him. “Enter it as written.”

Wen An straightened and completed the certificate. A second clerk brought a small badge with one clean mark across its surface.

Shi Feng held it in his palm.

He remembered the first smoke-filled batches in Great Liang. He remembered wrists that couldn't maintain the flame and ingredients ruined because remembered expertise wasn't the same as physical control.

The badge represented those failed attempts as much as the successful pill upstairs.

Wen An passed over the certificate.

“Your purchase register now has the certified alchemist's terms,” Wen An said. “You may request Golden Core ingredient lots and accept appropriate tower commissions. Availability and your own capacity still govern the work.”

“Understood,” Shi Feng replied.

She indicated where he should sign. The improved terms took one paragraph. He read it, signed and stored the certificate carefully.

News travelled down the staircase before he did.

At the medicine counter, two assistants stopped sorting boxes. A customer looked from the badge to Shi Feng's face, then asked whether the young man was someone's disciple taking an introductory assessment.

“One Mark,” Wen An answered from the desk. “Practical certification completed this morning.”

The room quieted briefly.

“Nineteen?”

“At Foundation Establishment?”

“That's the Great Liang swordsman!”

“Master Shen? The one people talked about from the capital?”

Shi Feng hadn't hidden that identity since its public reveal. He also didn't need to answer every customer whose memory arrived one breath late.

He thanked Zheng Hui once more and moved toward the ingredient counters.

The examiner stopped him with a raised finger.

“Keep the notes from your failed cooling turns,” Zheng Hui said. “Don't replace them with a cleaner account of today's success.”

Shi Feng smiled.

“They're already written,” Shi Feng replied.

“Good,” Zheng Hui said. “A surprising number of people forget how useful their mistakes were as soon as somebody gives them a badge.”

He bought only enough ingredients for several familiar batches.

The new terms made the total better than yesterday's estimate. It was a real improvement, and there would be more valuable commissions available after the tournament. None of that changed the months when he had worked with too little sleep and eaten what remained after other needs were covered.

Success didn't reach backward and put money into an empty bag.

Shi Feng tucked the receipt away without following that thought farther.

Outside, Duan Yichen waited beside the tower steps. He had apparently finished his own practice early enough to watch for the result.

The sabre user looked at the badge.

“So the fruit was congratulations,” Duan Yichen said.

“It was good breakfast too,” Shi Feng replied.

Duan Yichen grinned and caught his arm, careful of the furnace case.

“Then lunch,” Duan Yichen said. “You can explain why one little line makes the tower assistants stand straighter.”

“They trust what it means,” Shi Feng replied.

“Good answer,” Duan Yichen said. “Still buying lunch.”

They ate in a small courtyard behind the medicine street. Duan Yichen ordered too much fried bean curd, admitted it halfway through and finished it anyway.

Shi Feng laughed when the sabre user tried to blame the size of the bowls.

For once, recognition arrived without a demand that he humiliate someone first. Zheng Hui had judged the work. Wen An had entered the result. Duan Yichen had waited because he wanted to hear it.

Shi Feng found he enjoyed that more than the startled crowd below the stairs.

On the way back, a tower assistant brought him a sealed copy of the assay. The assistant bowed politely and addressed him as a certified alchemist.

Shi Feng accepted the sheet and put it beside his practice journal.

He would compare them later, while the corrections remained clear.

Ling Qingzhu heard the news from Hongxiu that afternoon.

She was checking her sword belt before the next day's trials. Her white veil lay properly across her face, and the little clasp held every loose strand except one beside her ear.

“He passed,” Hongxiu said. “The tower confirmed it.”

Ling Qingzhu's hand stopped on the belt.

“One Mark,” Ling Qingzhu said softly.

Hongxiu nodded. She looked ready to suggest a congratulatory visit, then thought better of it.

Ling Qingzhu understood the silence.

She wrote a short note wishing him success in the coming trials. After reading it, she set it aside. He had already thanked her for the same wish yesterday. Another paper didn't need to arrive simply because she wanted to feel present at his good news.

She finished checking the sword belt.

Across the city, Shi Feng put the one-Mark badge in his everyday bag, where the certificate wouldn't crease beneath it. Tomorrow's arena entry would still depend on his tournament plate.

He checked that too.

The new badge rested beside the old plate for a moment. He looked at both, then packed them separately and turned out the lamp. Each had been earned through different work.