Chapter 208 — Thirty-One Puppets

CHAPTER 208

Thirty-One Puppets

“He's been in there six hours!”

“Impossible. Nobody lasts six hours against Grade Five.”

“Then why can't I hear screaming?”

“…”

By the eighth night, the outer court had stopped pretending it wasn't interested. Forty or fifty disciples stood around the array hall door with bowls of noodles, and a boy from the kitchen was selling hot buns from a basket. Two men at the back were taking bets. The odds on “the champion walks out” had dropped from ten to one down to three to two.

Inside, wood cracked, and something heavy fell over. The crowd flinched together.

“That's the sixth one tonight,” a girl said.

“The seventh. You missed the one that rolled.”

Zhu Liu sat on an upturned bucket by the door with his receipt book open on his knees. His face was pale and his brush kept moving. Every time a puppet broke, he wrote a line. Nobody had asked him to.

“Junior Brother Zhu,” a disciple called. “Is he still alive?”

“Yes!” Zhu Liu said. “Please don't distract me. I'm on the fourth page of damages.”

“Damages to what?”

“I don't know,” Zhu Liu said. “Everything. I'm only recording.”

The array hall door opened, and the crowd stepped back.

Shi Feng came out first. His robe had a long scorch across the sleeve and a split under one arm. There was a bruise on his jaw the size of a coin. Behind him, Song Tai staggered out with the empty look of a man who had seen too many puppets die.

“How many tonight?” Zhu Liu asked.

“Seven,” Shi Feng said.

“Then with the twenty-four before, that's thirty-one,” Zhu Liu said, flipping a page. “Counting the Grade Five that lost an arm on the sixth night. Should I write 'repair' or 'destroyed'?”

“Write what you saw,” Shi Feng said.

“I saw a lot of sawdust,” Zhu Liu said miserably.

Then the crowd opened in a different way.

Gongsun Ce walked through it with his hands behind his back. He wore the grey robe of an inner disciple, with a prince's jade pendant at his waist. The small wooden figure that usually rode under his arm was gone, which made him look unarmed and angry at the same time.

Nobody spoke. The noodle bowls stopped moving.

“Thirty-one,” Gongsun Ce said.

“Thirty-one,” Zhu Liu agreed, then covered his mouth.

Gongsun Ce didn't look at him. He looked at the door, where a splinter hung from the frame, and then at the man standing under it.

“Do you know how long one Grade Three body takes this prince to carve and string?” Gongsun Ce asked.

“No,” Shi Feng said.

“Nine days for Grade Three. Twenty-two for Grade Five,” Gongsun Ce said, struggling to stay calm. “I built twenty-two of those myself. The sect never paid me. They were meant to help the outer court train, not give you an evening’s entertainment!”

“I came here to train,” Shi Feng said. “I didn’t come for the noodles.”

“For sport!” Gongsun Ce said.

“For training,” Shi Feng said. “The array belongs to the sect. Anyone may book it. I booked it.”

“Booked it by bribing the keeper!” Gongsun Ce said.

Song Tai made a small noise behind Shi Feng and tried to become part of the door.

“The pills were payment, not a bribe,” Shi Feng said. “Song Tai’s allowed to accept them. The rule’s on the door, and his signature’s in the book.”

“The rule was written for disciples who know when to stop!” Gongsun Ce said.

“Then the rule needs another line,” Shi Feng said. “Until it has one, I'll use the array as written.”

The crowd drew a breath together. Somebody at the back whispered, “He's talking back to the prince.”

“He's not even shouting.”

“That's what's scary.”

“Idiot, that's what he always does.”

Gongsun Ce was furious, but he couldn’t find a rule Shi Feng had broken. Craft and rank usually settled his arguments. Here, the keeper had approved every session in front of witnesses. He couldn’t strike the champion just because the puppets had lost.

He took out a small jade token and held it up.

“Song Tai,” Gongsun Ce said.

“Y-yes, Young Master Gongsun!” Song Tai said.

“The lock on the sealed rack. How many puppets in it?” Gongsun Ce said.

The keeper's face lost what colour it had left.

“Prince Gongsun, the sealed rack is for…” Song Tai said.

“How many?” Gongsun Ce said.

“One,” Song Tai whispered. “But it's not a training puppet. It was only ever meant for sect defence.”

“Good,” Gongsun Ce said. “Then it won't mind a fight.”

He put the token back and turned to Shi Feng.

“One mountain cannot hold two tigers! You want harder training? I’ll give it to you,” Gongsun Ce said. “The hardest puppet in this hall. No more bargaining with Song Tai. Face it, or admit you only know how to smash my wood.”

Shi Feng looked at him for two breaths.

“When?” Shi Feng asked.

“When this prince is ready,” Gongsun Ce said, and left the way he had come.

The crowd stayed silent until his back disappeared behind the practice court wall. Then it all came out at once.

“Sealed rack?”

“What's in the sealed rack?”

“Oh, no. Not that one. Now either the fish dies or the net breaks!”

Zhu Liu turned to Shi Feng with his brush trembling over the page.

“Senior Brother Shi, what is a sealed rack?” Zhu Liu asked. “Should I write down that I don't know?”

“Write 'thirty-one puppets,' and the date,” Shi Feng said. “Then go to bed.”

He went to the water barrel and washed the scorch from his face. His body hurt in a dozen places. The Physique's slow warmth still ran through his bones, one small gain at a time.

Not tofu, he thought.

Not yet iron either.