Chapter 874 — Before the Glass

CHAPTER 874

Before the Glass

The Glass Hall opened at dawn, and it was full before the doors had finished swinging.

The stand sat in the middle of the floor as it had for the 4 Mark, under the glass roof. This time the Pavilion had raised a second wall round it, clear glass as tall as three men, with the sitting array cut into the floor inside. Above the stand, the gallery rose in rings. On the second ring, two private boxes faced each other across the hall.

Shi Feng stopped at the foot of the stand. Long Caili was waiting there with Shen Yaoqing at her side.

The princess wore deep blue with no jewels, and a veil of pale gauze from brow to chin. People in the first ring were bowing toward her without daring to meet her eyes.

“My vault is in your crates,” Long Caili said. “Every herb on that list is written in my book.”

“I remember what I promised,” Shi Feng said. “I’ve checked every herb. Nothing damaged will go into the furnace.”

“Careful isn’t the same as successful,” Long Caili said coldly.

“No, Highness,” Shi Feng said. “But I’ve done the preparation. Now let me get up there and make it.”

Shen Yaoqing looked at the glass wall, then at his hands. The burns from the steps had closed into new pink skin.

“Three days and three nights,” Shen Yaoqing said. “Have you ever gone three days without sleep?”

“Twice,” Shi Feng said. “Once in a tribulation, and once in the Pill Pit. Neither time was this comfortable.”

“You’re joking,” Shen Yaoqing said flatly.

“A little,” Shi Feng admitted. “I slept well last night. Master Ji made congee.”

Shen Yaoqing pressed her lips together. She followed Long Caili upstairs without looking back. By the time he reached the stand, both women were seated.

The Azure Sun box opposite had eight flame banners hung along its rail. Qu Hanshan sat in the middle in a crimson robe, with his white beard laid neatly on his chest. Qu Ming sat on his left, in the front, with a pot of tea already on the rail. On the right sat Baili Xuan, with bandages round his chest and one arm bound against his side.

Baili Xuan met Shi Feng’s eyes across the hall and gave one small nod. He didn’t look away. Shi Feng nodded back.

Behind the glass, at the far end of the stand, three chairs stood on a low dais.

Old Tower Master Dai sat in the middle one with a tea tray on his knees. Jiang Xu sat on his left, an open notary’s book in his lap. The chair on the right was carved with dragons. Xuanyuan Gui sat in it, a broad grey-haired man in a plain robe, with his hands resting on his knees. He hadn’t moved since he sat down.

The gallery couldn’t stop looking at that chair.

“The Imperial seat. At a Pavilion sitting!”

“Three 6 Marks at one glass wall. My grandfather never saw that.”

“Is that really the Emperor’s sworn brother?”

“…”

Si Jiahe stepped to the front of the stand with the Candidate’s Handbook open in both hands. He bowed to the notaries, then to the boxes, then to the gallery.

“The sitting of Shi Feng, for the 5 Mark and the 6 Mark at one sitting,” Si Jiahe read. “Three days and three nights. One furnace. Both pills in this sitting, in any order. The 5 Mark is passed at six clouds. The 6 Mark is passed at seven. If the candidate leaves the stand, the sitting ends. If the furnace goes out, the sitting ends.”

“I apologise. That’s all of it,” Si Jiahe said.

“That’s all?” someone called from the third ring. “Two Marks in three days? It took my master three days to fail one!”

Laughter rolled round the rings.

Song Wuya sat in the first ring below the notaries, among the examiners. He opened his own book and didn’t laugh.

Shi Feng took Mo’s cauldron out of his storage ring and set it on the furnace bed. The black bronze was dull and scarred. Ji Yuanhe sat down on his stool beside the herb table, put his hands under his thighs as he’d promised, and nodded.

“Ready,” Ji Yuanhe said.

Old Tower Master Dai lifted his teacup toward the stand.

“Whenever you like, candidate,” Old Tower Master Dai said politely.

Shi Feng laid his palm on the furnace bed and lit the Thousand Forge Flame.

It came up white-gold and steady. Then he folded it back on itself, once, and struck it with the second fold like a hammer on an anvil. The Second Anvil Fire, at Major Success, didn’t burn hotter. It burned heavier. The flame turned a deep, dark red, and the bronze rang once, low, like a bell under water.

Inside the glass, the air shook.

In the first ring, an old alchemist set down his tea.

“The arrow is on the string,” the old alchemist said, and then, quieter, as if to himself: “The second fold. He isn’t burning hotter. He’s burning heavier. Watch the bronze, not the flame.”

“Sit down, old brother,” the man behind him said. “Nobody paid to hear a lecture.”

Nobody in the first ring turned round. Below the notaries, Song Wuya’s brush moved in his book; he wrote the old man’s words down and added the hour under them.

In her box, Long Caili sat perfectly still. Beside her, Shen Yaoqing leaned forward an inch.

In the Azure Sun box, Baili Xuan’s good hand closed on his knee. The last time that fire had rung, it had been on the Pavilion steps, and he’d been standing inside it.

Shi Feng opened the first crate.

“Star-Swallow Ginseng,” Ji Yuanhe said, and handed it up.