Chapter 239 — Nobody Below Golden Core

CHAPTER 239

Nobody Below Golden Core

On the tenth morning, Clerk Du stamped the permit once and looked quite hurt about it.

“Renewal, ten days,” Clerk Du said. “One hundred and fifty stones. No second stamp. I checked.”

“Ten days of trade,” Sima Lan said, and laid a pile of silver slips on the counter. “Seven hundred and twelve spirit stones, net of the Pavilion's share. You can verify the figure against the market tally.”

“I already did,” Clerk Du said, sounding even more hurt. “It's higher than any other stall on Salt Well Street. The noodle shop wants to know what you put in your pills.”

“Herbs,” Shi Feng said.

“They won't believe me,” Clerk Du said.

Shi Feng took the stamped permit from the counter and gave it to Sima Lan. He didn't leave. His eyes had stopped on a board on the wall behind the clerk. It was long and made of black wood, and gold characters ran down it in neat rows.

Certified Alchemists of the Duanyang Tower.

The first row held three names with a single mark beside each. The second row held one name with two.

“Clerk Du,” Shi Feng said. “What does it take to register for the 2 Mark?”

Clerk Du laughed. Then he saw that nobody else was laughing, and he stopped.

“You're serious,” Clerk Du said.

“Yes,” Shi Feng said.

“Young Master Shi, everyone here knows your 1 Mark pills,” Clerk Du said. “But 2 Mark serves Nascent Soul cultivators. Nobody below Golden Core even registers. It's harder than climbing to the sky. We won’t accept the application. Don’t think I’m insulting your work. Your pills are good, and your sales have proved it. This test asks for something your current realm can’t provide.”

“Nobody?” Shi Feng said.

“Not once,” Clerk Du said, lowering his voice. “The region’s youngest 2 Mark is sixty-one. He spent thirty years at Golden Core first. You need more than steady hands: fire, herbs, and the realm to judge their effect. Foundation Establishment isn’t enough. You’d be judging what a pill does to a body at a realm you haven’t reached. Skill won’t remove that problem. As the saying goes, haste won’t let you eat hot tofu.”

“I understand,” Shi Feng said.

“Do you?” Clerk Du said.

“Golden Core first,” Shi Feng said. “Then the paper.”

Clerk Du blinked. He looked at the sleeves of the young man in front of him, then at his plain belt, then at the young woman standing beside him with the ledger.

“Come back when you're Golden Core,” Clerk Du said slowly, in the tone of someone humouring a customer. “I'll stamp it with both hands.”

“Noted,” Sima Lan said, and wrote it down.

“You wrote that down?” Clerk Du asked.

“Everything,” Sima Lan said. “I'm the one who keeps the books.”

Outside the tower, Zhu Liu was waiting with the stool and a nervous face.

“Senior Brother Shi, what did he say?” Zhu Liu said.

“Come back at Golden Core,” Shi Feng said.

“That's fair,” Zhu Liu said, and then, because he was literal, “That's twenty years away for most people.”

“Most people don't sell seventy pills a day,” Sima Lan said, not looking up from the permit.

Zhu Liu thought about that for the entire length of Salt Well Street and found no answer.

That night, the Sword Pagoda stood quiet under a thin moon.

Shi Feng climbed to the first floor with the day's contribution slip in his sleeve. Keeper Ou sat behind his window with a cup of tea in both hands, determined not to drop another one.

“Twenty-five points,” Keeper Ou said. “Floor one. The third circle on the left. Don't break the tablets.”

“I won't,” Shi Feng said.

“You said that last time,” Keeper Ou said.

“I didn't break them,” Shi Feng said.

“You,” Keeper Ou said, “were very nearly the end of my tea.”

Shi Feng walked into the third circle, where the stone tablet for the Iron River Sword Art waited. It was a plain art, Foundation Establishment-grade, and it had sat at Minor Success for months. It never rushed. It flowed along a single straight line, and he'd cut with it a hundred thousand times.

Golden Core first. Then the paper.

Shi Feng thought, Golden Core first. I’ve said it before witnesses now. He wasn’t annoyed by the clerk’s warning. Knowing the requirement gave him a clear next step.

He drew the plain knife and began.

He made the first familiar cut, then the second. The third followed a narrower line. By the thirtieth he no longer needed to count. Shi Feng concentrated on the flow of the art, guiding its force within the form instead of forcing each stroke separately.

The knife stopped.

Shi Feng stood still in the circle. His arm was warm. The tablet's stone glowed once, a pale, steady blue, and dimmed.

Major Success.

“Hm,” Shi Feng said.

Keeper Ou wrote the date and circle, checked them, then wrote the date again in larger characters. He underlined it before putting down the brush. His hand shook. He wanted proof that this had happened tonight.

“Young Master Shi,” Keeper Ou called. “Don't tell anyone about that light.”

“Why not?” Shi Feng asked.

“If the other keepers hear,” Keeper Ou said quickly, “they'll want a pool.”

“I won't,” Shi Feng said.

“I wrote the date twice,” Keeper Ou said, as if confessing. “In case I dream it.”

Shi Feng sheathed the knife. At the door he stopped and looked back at the glowing circle, then upward, past the tower's mended roof.

Golden Core was a long way off. But it was no longer a place he hadn't named.