Chapter 247 — Rules of Friendship

CHAPTER 247

Rules of Friendship

“Junior Brother!” Lin Langtian called through the door. “Put the tools down. Your caring senior brother’s brought another lesson!”

Shi Feng didn't look up from the cauldron. He had stopped being surprised by the door around the fourth week.

Lin Langtian came in with a bamboo basket in one arm and a rolled sheet of paper in the other. A sweet potato stuck out of his sleeve. He set the basket on the table with the care of a man laying down a newborn child.

“Nine-Leaf Soul-Settling Pill,” Lin Langtian said proudly. “A Nascent Soul-grade recipe, 2 Mark, very rare. I sold a nasty Elder of the Silver Lantern Hall three lectures to get these herbs. Well, one lecture. He fell asleep.”

“I'm a 1 Mark,” Shi Feng said.

“Exactly! The pill is for a 2 Mark, and you are a 1. That is the whole beauty of it,” Lin Langtian said.

Shi Feng looked into the basket. Nine herbs, each wrapped in its own square of oiled paper, each worth more than his hut.

“It will fail,” Shi Feng said.

“Wonderful. Fail well, Junior Brother. I'll bring more tomorrow,” Lin Langtian said.

Shi Feng knew what came next. Every failure returned the herbs’ full worth to his body, while each attempt improved his fire control. A month of failing had taught him more than a year of safe recipes. Lin Langtian knew it too, however cheerfully he pretended otherwise.

The door opened again.

Sima Lan stood in the corridor in her night robe, her hair already unbound, holding a lamp. She did not look pleased.

“It's the third hour,” Sima Lan said.

“Late,” Lin Langtian agreed cheerfully.

“I could hear you through the wall,” Sima Lan said.

“I'm very loud,” Lin Langtian said. “It's a gift.”

“Ten stones for the noise,” Sima Lan said.

“Clause eleven is for talking about the contract!” Lin Langtian protested.

“Ten stones,” Sima Lan said, “for being the kind of person who would argue about it.”

Lin Langtian laughed and paid her. He had learned that it was cheaper than the alternative. Then he unrolled the sheet of paper across the table, over the herbs, and cleared his throat.

“I heard about the arm,” Lin Langtian said. “Four boards, a belt, a pill, a setting and thirty days of a smith's labour. Thirty-four stones, charged to the sect.”

“Nobody else was going to pay it,” Shi Feng said.

“Good, you dealt with the arm,” Lin Langtian said. “Now we deal with the men who broke it. They wrote rules to favour themselves. Complaining won’t change that. Use a man’s own way on his own body, as the saying goes, and put something better on the board.”

He tapped the sheet. It was in his own large, cheerful hand, with a potato stain in one corner.

Rules for Friendly Spars at Three-Road Border Market.

1. Spars are friendly.

2. Injuries are billed.

3. Losers leave their storage rings as a deposit.

Shi Feng read it twice.

“Rule one is the letter's own wording,” Shi Feng said. “Rule two is reasonable.”

“Thank you,” Lin Langtian said.

“Rule three is illegal,” Shi Feng said.

“Is it?” Lin Langtian looked delighted. “Which law?”

Shi Feng opened his mouth, and for a moment found that he did not know. There was no law on any storage ring in the entire region. The Sky Pavilion would never write one.

“It's robbery,” Shi Feng said.

“A deposit,” Lin Langtian said. “Against damage. If the loser is friendly, he gets it back. Do you know how many friends Martial Palace has never given anything back to?”

“…” Shi Feng said.

“Junior Brother, I'm teaching you. Pay attention,” Lin Langtian said. He picked up a brush from Shi Feng's own desk, dipped it, and wrote beneath rule three in thick strokes:

4. Rule three is legal.

Sima Lan leaned over to read the new line. Her mouth twitched despite her effort to stay serious. Lin Langtian had simply written his answer beneath the objection, and he looked very pleased with it.

“That is not a rule,” Sima Lan said. “That is an argument.”

“It's both,” Lin Langtian said. “Nobody will tear it down. Everybody will want to tell me it's wrong, and by the time they work out how, it will have been up for three days. That's how a rule becomes a custom.”

“Who will accept it?” Shi Feng asked. “Martial Palace won't agree.”

“They don't need to agree. The warden posts every notice at the market board and tears down only the ones he can answer.” Lin Langtian rolled the sheet into a tube and tapped it against his palm. “Besides, all rule three needs is for one man to be greedy. Men die for wealth and birds die for food, as the saying goes. And you, Junior Brother, are the champion of the whole tournament. Everyone in the Palace thinks your storage ring is stuffed with prizes.”

Shi Feng thought, They think it's full of tournament treasure. They'll want to take it from me.

It was true, as far as the prize medicines went. He did not plan to correct anyone.

“I see,” Shi Feng said.

“Good,” Lin Langtian said, patting the basket. “Keep thinking about their greed while you refine. First, let’s see how slowly you can ruin these expensive herbs.”

“Posting fee for the market board is two stones,” Sima Lan said. “Paid by the poster.”

Lin Langtian looked pained, then dug in his sleeve.

At dawn the sheet was nailed to the board beside the rope square, and Warden Gui read it. He read rule four three times. He frowned. He looked for a way to answer it, and could not find one, so he left it where it was.

Then a tall Martial Palace disciple in a spotless robe walked up to the board, read all four lines through, and took the brush from the warden's hand.

Under rule four, in clean square characters, he wrote: Accepted. Jia Tong, late Foundation Establishment. Artificer Hall's champion, if he will come.