Chapter 193 — The Register of Thousand Forge Peak

CHAPTER 193

The Register of Thousand Forge Peak

Shi Feng looked at the wooden case under his arm. Then he looked at the old man in the high-backed chair.

“Sect Master,” Shi Feng said, bowing. “This Shi didn't mean to insult the steel.”

“A spear broke your sword,” Li Changyuan said. “That happens in a real fight. Don’t apologise to me for it.”

Nobody in the hall breathed. Gongsun Ce stared at the shabby bundle on the side table, then at the patched brown robe, then at the bundle again. Sima Lan's lips moved silently. She seemed to be counting every cold bun she had watched the man eat.

Every disciple knew Artificer Hall’s sect master was the strongest man in the region. Nobody had seen him prove it, and few knew his face. Gongsun Ce was stunned. This was the old man they’d watched haggle over buns!

Shi Feng thought, So he wasn't just visiting a friend. He was watching us on the boat. He put the thought away. Whatever the test was, nobody had told him the question.

“Tian Luo, get their names in the register,” Li Changyuan said. “We’ve kept them standing long enough. And put out that brazier when we’re done.”

“At once, Sect Master,” Tian Luo said.

The Nascent Soul elder opened his register on the side table, beside the bent wooden wheel. He read the champion's name aloud and drew a character in red. The other five elders watched Shi Feng's face, hoping to see some excitement.

They saw nothing. Shi Feng was thinking about bed legs.

“Inner disciple, Shi Feng,” Tian Luo said. “The sect welcomes you.”

“Thank you, Elder Tian,” Shi Feng said.

“Inner disciple, Gongsun Ce,” Tian Luo said. “Outer disciple, Sima Lan.”

Sima Lan nodded once. Gongsun Ce bowed so fast the puppet case knocked against his knee.

“Now, the rooms,” Tian Luo said.

He stopped. All six elders looked at the floor at the same time.

“The inner court has sixteen rooms,” He Zhen said, rubbing his brush case. “Fifteen are…”

“Rented,” Elder Qian Mo said.

Qian Mo was a thin man with an abacus at his belt. Admitting where the rooms had gone clearly pained him.

“Rented to whom?” Shi Feng asked.

“Merchant Fan of the Fan Coal House,” Elder Qian Mo said. “He paid three years ahead. Nine hundred spirit stones, and the furnace roof on Third Hill was repaired with it. We had no inner disciples worth housing, you understand. As the saying goes, even a clever housewife can't cook without rice. We didn't expect a champion.”

“Nobody expected a champion,” Tian Luo said defensively.

Gongsun Ce raised a hand. “The sixteenth room is mine,” Gongsun Ce said. “The sect offered it by letter in spring.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Elder Qian Mo said sadly. “That one is yours. The bed needs a leg.”

Every head turned back to Shi Feng. The elders looked ashamed. He Zhen looked like a man who'd been told the cart would arrive and then watched it overturn.

“Junior Brother Shi, I invited you,” He Zhen said, ashamed. “You should have a proper inner-court room. Instead, we’ve filled them with a merchant’s coal.”

“Which room is mine?” Shi Feng asked.

“The outer court has empty huts,” He Zhen said. “Clean ones. Most of them.”

“Then I'll take one of the clean ones,” Shi Feng said.

The elders stared. They'd expected anger, or at least a cold speech about face. The tournament champion was being given a hut, and he'd said thank you.

“The sect will pay the rent difference,” Elder Qian Mo said quickly. “Not in stones. In credit.”

“Credit against what?” Shi Feng asked.

Elder Qian Mo opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“Against future…” Elder Qian Mo said weakly.

“Then the credit can wait,” Shi Feng said. “I'll take the hut.”

Sima Lan coughed into her sleeve. Gongsun Ce found the ceiling very interesting.

“At least this one reads a contract,” Li Changyuan muttered. He stood, took his bundle and walked out through a side door. The bent wheel stayed on the table. Nobody dared touch it.

“He'll want that back,” He Zhen said.

An errand disciple was waiting in the court.

He was about seventeen, at Qi Condensation, and he gripped a ledger so tightly his knuckles were pale. When he saw Shi Feng, he bowed deeply and dropped it. He caught it before it hit the stones.

“Zhu Liu reports!” Zhu Liu said, bowing again. “I’m your errand disciple, Senior Brother Shi. They told me to stay calm when I met you. I’m trying, really.”

“Start by breathing,” Gongsun Ce said kindly. “You’ll be no use to him if you faint here.”

“Yes, Prince Gongsun,” Zhu Liu said. “Thank you.”

“What does an errand disciple do?” Shi Feng asked.

“Everything Senior Brother needs,” Zhu Liu said. “Sweeping, water, notices, meals, and… and receipts, Senior Brother. I write a receipt for everything. The Treasury insists.”

“Why?” Shi Feng said.

“Because the last errand disciple lost a pair of shoes,” Zhu Liu said. His voice dropped. “Elder Qian Mo still talks about it.”

Zhu Liu pulled out a brush. “Here is the first receipt, Senior Brother. One outer-court hut, number nine, eastern lane. Received, not inspected. Please sign.”

Shi Feng took the brush. He read the line twice.

“Not inspected,” Shi Feng said.

“The roof’s still there,” Zhu Liu said quickly. “I checked that myself. I haven’t been inside yet, so I can’t sign for the rest.”

Shi Feng signed.

They crossed the court and passed under a second gate. The outer court began where the paved stone ended, and the lane beyond was packed dirt. Washing hung across it from roof to roof. Then Shi Feng noticed the lane was too quiet. Every window on both sides was open an inch.

“Senior Brother,” Zhu Liu whispered. “Everyone is looking at you.”

“I noticed,” Shi Feng said.

“I think I'm going to be sick,” Zhu Liu said.