Chapter 229 — The Rules of the Assessment

CHAPTER 229

The Rules of the Assessment

“Rows, not clumps,” He Zhen said. “You’re here for an assessment. Finish your breakfast and let the people behind you hear.”

Two hundred and forty disciples shuffled across the practice ground of Artificer Hall. The morning bell was still humming over the roofs. Somebody in the back row was chewing, and nobody had the courage to ask who.

Shi Feng stood at the edge of the inner-court rows. Zhu Liu waited behind him with the receipt book. Sima Lan carried her ledger and chalk. She wasn’t competing; she had come as his attendant, ready to record the results.

“The Quarterly Assessment has three rounds,” He Zhen said, unrolling a long sheet. “First, the Puppet Array. You stand in the array while the incense burns. One point for every grade of puppet you survive, nine grades in all.”

“Nine?” a disciple whispered. “Last quarter it was seven.”

“Last quarter somebody broke the sevens,” He Zhen said, without looking up.

Heads turned. Several of them turned toward Shi Feng. He pretended not to have heard.

“Second, the Flame Cavern,” He Zhen went on. “One point for every ring you reach, and the jade tally at that ring must be in your hand when you climb out. No tally, no point. Third, the artifact round. Submit one refined artifact, made by your own hands. The examiners will grade it, and the grade becomes your points.”

“What if our hands didn't finish it?” Zhu Liu asked.

Everybody looked at him. Zhu Liu turned pale and wrote something in the receipt book.

“Then it's somebody else's artifact,” He Zhen said. “And you'll be sweeping the cavern mouth for a month.”

A laugh moved through the rows. He Zhen waited until it died, then lifted the sheet higher.

“The highest total is named a core disciple. The naming is at dawn, on the day after the results are posted. A core disciple receives a peak-side hall, a stipend of ten spirit stones a month, and the right to skip morning sweeping,” He Zhen said.

“Ten stones a month?” a girl muttered. “Does the treasury have ten stones?”

“The stipend is paid when the treasury allows,” He Zhen said.

The girl stopped asking.

“It's the sweeping that matters,” a boy behind her said. “Nobody has skipped sweeping in six years.”

Beside Shi Feng, Sima Lan lowered her chalk and wrote one line in her ledger. Shi Feng didn't look at it. He knew what it said. It said that ten stones a month was a quarter of her own wage.

“Attendant,” Shi Feng said quietly. “I'm not competing for the stipend.”

“I know,” Sima Lan said, still writing. “I’m checking whether the Treasury can afford the winner. Somebody ought to ask before they announce the stipend.”

“To whom?” Shi Feng said.

“To the sect,” Sima Lan said. “It can't afford you.”

Zhu Liu coughed into his receipt book. Shi Feng said nothing. Sometimes the only answer to Sima Lan was to let her be right.

A familiar voice rang across the ground.

“Elder He! A question, if the Assessment allows one!” Gongsun Ce said.

Gongsun Ce left the inner-court row with his sleeves already rolled up. A wooden puppet perched on his shoulder. He looked eager rather than nervous; the assessment finally gave him a way to settle the rivalry in public.

“Ask,” He Zhen said wearily.

“Does the Assessment record the naming date?” Gongsun Ce asked. “For the sect's archives. Dawn after the results. Clearly written, so no one can argue about a night later.”

“It's in the rules,” He Zhen said.

“Excellent.” Gongsun Ce turned around and faced the inner-court rows, then looked at Shi Feng with the full warmth of a man who had waited a long time for this morning. “I only wish to remind everyone that the Ledger War has a stake. I will be named a core disciple before this person reaches peak Foundation Establishment. Payable in the usual currency.”

The rows rustled. Some of the inner-court disciples hadn't heard about the wager and now wanted to hear about nothing else.

“He's still at late Foundation Establishment, isn't he?”

“Peak is a long way from late.”

“Poor Gongsun Ce, he'll win without trying. It's as easy as flipping a palm.”

“Poor? He built the nine-grade array himself!”

Shi Feng looked at Gongsun Ce for a moment.

“It stands,” Shi Feng said.

Gongsun Ce smiled. Then he realised Shi Feng wasn't worried at all, and the smile cracked a little.

“You don't want to negotiate?” Gongsun Ce asked.

“I accepted,” Shi Feng said. “Nothing to negotiate.”

Gongsun Ce said nothing. He adjusted the puppet on his shoulder and retreated into his row.

“Second bell. Puppet Array,” He Zhen said, rolling up the rules. “If you’re frightened, settle it before you go in. Clutching Buddha's feet at the last moment never saved anyone. Don’t make the keeper comfort you as well as run the puppets.”

Shi Feng blinked. Then he understood.

In the far corner of the ground, a thin man in a keeper's apron stood beside the array gate, wiping his eyes with a very damp cloth. Whenever Shi Feng's gaze touched him, the keeper wiped harder and looked away.

“Senior Brother Shi,” Zhu Liu whispered. “I think he wants to speak to you.”

“I think so too,” Shi Feng said.

“Should I ask him what’s wrong?” Zhu Liu whispered. “He looks worse than he did after the war puppet.”

“Not yet,” Shi Feng said.