Chapter 358 — The Candidates' Hall

CHAPTER 358

The Candidates' Hall

The old man who had spoken sat at the head of the first long table, with a pot of tea in front of him that nobody else was allowed to touch.

Master Ruan was seventy years old. He had a white beard combed into three neat points, a robe with embroidered cranes and the confidence of an elder accustomed to being obeyed. A Nascent Soul cultivator, early stage. His Spirit Sense swept Shi Feng as he entered, without the courtesy of asking.

“Early Golden Core,” Master Ruan announced to the hall. “And a large core with hardly anything in it. Pity. Come in, child, come in. Don't be shy.”

The candidates' hall was a long room of thirty-two stools and eight long tables, with furnace racks along one wall. A water clock dripped by the window. Most of the old men turned to look. A few smiled, and the smiles were not friendly.

“Is that the one from Artificer Hall?” a heavy man muttered. “The one with the blank jade?”

“The one who got a Nascent Soul's tribulation, they say.”

“They say a lot. Teahouses say whatever is cheap.”

“A child at the 2 Mark!”

“…”

Shi Feng found stool number thirty-two at the end of the last table. He sat. Sima Lan stood behind him, opened her ledger and began recording the elders’ remarks, plainly displeased.

“Child,” Master Ruan said, rising to refill the circle's cups himself, “let us help you. Since nobody else will.”

“This is Alchemist Lei Wen,” Master Ruan went on, nodding to the heavy man. “And Alchemist Yao Kun, who is eighty-one and has failed this trial twice. We are three of the eleven who have given our lives to the 2 Mark.”

“Eleven?” Shi Feng asked.

“Eleven who may pass,” Alchemist Yao Kun said, in a thin and proud voice. “The rest are here for the tea.”

“Our friend Ruan is trying to be kind,” Alchemist Lei Wen said. “Let me explain, Golden Core child. A 2 Mark pill is a Nascent Soul's pill. Do you know what that means?”

“Say it,” Shi Feng said.

“It means you can't refine for a realm you haven't stood in!” Alchemist Lei Wen said, delighted. “You don't know how the infant drinks medicine. You don't know how the pill sounds when it's ready, because you can't hear it. You need Spirit Sense to watch the pill's heart through the furnace wall. Spirit Sense begins at Nascent Soul. Not before. Not for a prodigy, not for a prince, not for an emperor's son. Try it without, and you are drawing water with a bamboo basket.”

“In all the years of this tower,” Alchemist Yao Kun said, “nobody under Nascent Soul has passed.”

“The youngest in this region was sixty-one,” Master Ruan said gently. “And he was a genius.”

“A newborn calf isn't afraid of tigers, as they say,” Master Ruan said, spreading his hands. “I won't be cruel. I'll only ask you to sit quietly, watch how a real master handles a furnace, and go home with a story to tell your sect. It will be good for you. A wise young man learns from the elders before he tries to be one.”

Shi Feng listened to all of it without any change on his face. Behind him, Sima Lan's brush moved faster.

“Is there something you'd like to ask?” Master Ruan said. “Take your time. An old man enjoys a good question.”

“What does the registration fee cover?” Shi Feng asked.

The hall went quiet. Master Ruan's smile stayed, but his eyes went flat.

“The fee,” Master Ruan repeated.

“Two thousand stones, half of it mine,” Shi Feng said. “I'd like to know what it bought.”

“That is your only question?” Master Ruan asked.

“For now,” Shi Feng said.

Lei Wen laughed at the question, then faltered when Master Ruan didn’t join him. Master Ruan looked at him, and then at Yao Kun. After a pause, Yao Kun cleared his throat.

“The stool,” Alchemist Yao Kun said uncertainly. “A candle a night. A bed in the east dormitory. One pot of tea per round.”

“And the furnace for the final,” Alchemist Lei Wen added.

“Meals?” Sima Lan asked, without lifting her head.

“One bowl of plain rice at noon,” Alchemist Lei Wen said.

“One bowl,” Sima Lan repeated, writing. “Plain.”

“The herbs for the rounds come out of the allowance,” Master Ruan said. His voice had stiffened. “A very fair allowance.”

“Thank you,” Shi Feng said. “That's all I wanted.”

He took a pen from the table and wrote something on the back of his token. Sima Lan glanced at it. It said: rice, 1 bowl. Qian Mo's fee, very good.

Master Ruan stared at him. Then, quite suddenly, he laughed, a dry and cheerful sound.

“You want to know what you paid for. It’s a practical question, I’ll give you that,” Master Ruan said, leaning across the table. “Let me give you a practical answer as well.” He lowered his voice, taking obvious pleasure in the warning. “You've come all this way for nothing, child. This year's final examiner is Examiner Tao Heng. A good man. A man who is friends with Martial Palace.”

At the next stool, Alchemist Yao Kun stopped sipping his tea.

“You could stay and watch,” Master Ruan said kindly. “Or you could go home now and save yourself a long week.”

“Thank you,” Shi Feng said. “I’ll remember the examiner’s name.”

He rose and bowed once to the table, correctly, and went to find his bed. Behind him the hall began to laugh again.

Sima Lan stayed a moment longer. She turned to a fresh page in her ledger and wrote one name across the top: Tao Heng. Under it she drew a column and gave it a single heading.

Owed.