Chapter 162 - Senseless

  The end of the week came in a flash. Hao’s cultivation took more turns than climbs. A handful of days turned to nothing but burning up resources, literally and figuratively. He wished he had spent more time in the cultivation cave; Every time he came out, a dozen things would be sold, a dozen bought. Not everything met a literal fire; he had the brilliant idea to buy an incense censer for that purpose.

  Then he could stuff his myriad herbs into that before setting the whole cave aflame with just himself sealed inside. That wasn’t his only purchase. Certainly, the one he will remember most for a long time.

  A few of its uses brought him close to questioning the effectiveness of torture. Then he found a way to up the intensity further.

  His brilliant idea: start the herb in question burning, then put the censer in the Spirit-Holding Bag. The fire didn’t extinguish. So, at will, he could take some of the smoke out, with complete control of amount, density, and placement.

  The term tortured genius found new meaning; A fool that tried things he questioned at every step, then got lucky with the results despite how awful the ‘training’.

  Blindness. Numbness. Name a sense, and Hao had lost it for five minutes to a couple of hours. Sometimes the scent was bad enough on its own, not in terms of pain or terror it induced, but the smell that it made him puke.

  Hao would take five minutes. Clean up, wash himself, his clothes, his hair, and the cave. Then go to the Mission hall, and look for trades. He had sect points. No intention to spend them unless a deal just as good as the sales he made came walking his way. Not even the library could coax a copper from his sweaty palms. Blood though. He bought enough beast blood to make five generations of fish think the world was red.

  Not that a pond or river would ever see a drop. He hoarded the red jelly like he hoarded his sect points. In time, he would turn it into World Energy and Vital Crystal with the Drinking-Stone. That wasn’t anytime soon as far as he was concerned.

  Once his day of playing economics and trade was done, he hurried right back to the cave. And tried whatever the worst but effective idea he could think of.

  Nothing—Nothing came close to the effect of the white root. It caused the most initial discomfort and agitation, while having the greatest permanent effect. There were diminishing returns. Even then, when World Energy flowed a little bit easier, he felt like a shackle on his soul was being loosened. It almost made the minutes of suffocation not feel like hours and days.

  Some herbs did come close to being as effective.

  Sun-Blotching Grass, that one made him lose sight. The herb was a more common one, with little use to anyone but a poor alchemist. It was well known for its blinding effect. Usually, a small dot would appear in vision—some people used it to help with focus during meditation.

  Hao, on the other hand, put it in the censer and saw the opposite. The moment the smoke touched his face, light was a tunnel ten mountains and a lifetime away. That first time, he tried to reach for the light; reaching for it felt as likely as a good outcome coming from flirting with the Second Elder.

  No pain, no discomfort, just gone, vision, a piece of his lifetime reality—a piece of the puzzle missing.

  That flash of panic did make him push World Energy to his eyes on purpose for the first time. That made it dissipate quicker. He did it in repetition and found that the scratches on his vision from prolonged dryness became sharper. It never quite disappeared, but his sight was clearer.

  Hao should’ve known what would happen when he tried numbing herbs; he did it anyway. It was the one he didn’t bother trying a second time. The world vanished, and made him feel as if he was just a consciousness in the void.

  It was the same herbs he would normally chew up and put in his wounds. Yet when it was flooding his body from the inside out, what usually dulled pain made him think he was a ghost. Just four senses trying to put together a world with conscious thought, yet no way to feel it. Worse, it had no noticeable positive effect.

  That night, he broke his promise to Meiqi and went into the forest to work on the houses after a soak in the icy pond. That night was his first and only break.

  * 163 (1) - A new approach

  The weeks seemed slow on other parts of the mountain. Though the tides had shifted and the First Elder had made his move, the Fifth Elder was still thinking about his approach. His niece, Fang Qing Shui, the Second Elder, hadn’t told him what she was thinking. She sheltered up in the little bamboo hut on the Second Peak. The girl always preferred a small hut despite the giant dusty palace right next to it.

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  Old Fifth had been deep in thought since the day that rodent Guo Yinjing pulled off his little stunt. Most of it was reminisce—the only thing he hated more than Yinjing was memories. However, somewhere in those memories, there may be a solution to his plight. However, focus was more an enemy than a friend. Other than thinking of his ascension to his position of an Elder, the timing and luck involved back then, the blue flowers that grew around his peak were the only thing on his mind.

  Old Fifth loved those flowers; the entire peak knew it. Few knew why, and he would keep it that way. He planted a few when he first took the title ‘Fifth’. Now they grew naturally like weeds wherever he looked.

  I would have to pluck every whisker from every rat on this mountain before I arrived at the same number of years that had passed since then. The Fifth completed his third circle around his Blue Sky Pagoda since he started pacing.

  Everyone he passed, bowed. Even that famed Young Lady Zu and her Master—still bald and overbearing. Daoist Silver Steps rarely lowered his eyebrows even when he lowered his back.

  “Here even the most arrogant man in the world bows to an old fool like me…” The Fifth Elder whispered to himself.

  Those who heard it raised their heads. Ironically, one of the few who didn’t was Daoist Ciyue. Silver Steps… Pah!

  Old Fifth turned his back and walked up to the pagoda. He flicked his sleeve, and the door opened for him. He entered, and it slammed behind him. His pacing was interrupted by a flower on the floor in his path. It was plucked and wither, long dead, Omens… You curse me with Omens.

  The Lantern Stones shivered despite his words not passing his lips. His gray hair caught the light. He leaned forward and lifted the flowers, letting sky blue petals fill his other hand. He watched each one with utmost respect, yet the Pagoda quivered from his stance. His cane wanted to fall, but it seemed scared to let gravity move it.

  His disciples, two of them, the boys, walked his way. Even if they hadn’t appeared before him, he knew their steps like a mother knows her child’s laugh.

  I’m getting old. Old Fifth closed his hand, but the petals didn’t get crushed or obliterated; he placed them in his space ring. Some habits could be as bad as memories—some were bound, tied together, like bones in his rotting body. A long sigh stopped most of the lantern stones from shaking, but the peak didn’t calm until his hand was on his cane again.

  “It's already been a few days since Yinjing’s outburst.” His voice cracked, sullen and cold.

  His two disciples appeared, both strong and smart, better than he, even though if he tried, he could whip them both into a pulp. Good boys—men now, strange. Taller than him, with the dais they kept warm for his slow feet, they put knees to the ground with cupped hands before either spoke.

  “Master, what do you think he wants?” Que lifted his head, looking between Old Fifth and his Senior Brother Guan.

  Old Fifth clicked his tongue, “You already know. Why ask silly questions?”

  He walked up the first step to the dias, but the archway caught his eye. “Ohoh? This one is new, isn’t it? Yan Yan is getting better.”

  When he looked back down, Old Fifth noticed how scrunched Que’s face was.

  “It doesn’t make sense, Master,” Que started, “The Sect Master is alive and well, even if he isn’t here—The First Elder surely realizes how foolish this is. He will end up just like his grandfather!”

  The Fifth pointed his cane at Que. “Don’t speak of things you don’t understand. You might be clever, but you can’t see the future or the past. If his gamble pays, everyone except him loses. It was never enough that he won.”

  Guan walked over and placed a hand on the tip of the cane. His old arms could feel the strength hidden beneath his skin, even though it didn’t radiate off him like Spiritual Energy.

  “Master, he hasn’t won yet,” Guan said, pushing the tip of the cane back to the ground.

  Old Fifth nodded, “No. No, he hasn’t. He won’t.”

  He almost didn’t believe his own words. Guo Yinjing alone was nothing, but his plots brought hell to many inside the Drifting Stream Sect without ever implicating the man himself.

  Fang Qing Shui knew that, yet she was so calm.

  What is the girl planning? Does she have a plan? An escape? That couldn’t have been true even if he wanted it to be. All the other Elders quivered with shock and confusion during Yinjing’s announcement to the disciples. Not her. Not a fluctuation came from her.

  Does she think his plan will fail outright? She doesn’t have a disciple of her own to best Mo Bangcai… The Fifth Elder shook his head, much to his disciples' confusion. The only thing she showed interest in was that Source Stone she got from that Barbarian boy. The boy himself, too, no, she couldn’t mean to… It would be no loss to her or me if the boy lost, but if he won... But it's impossible. He is trash. Actually trash. From off the Southern Tip, which is worse.

  “Master?” Guan looked at Old Fifth while holding back Que, who was ready to continue his rant.

  “I—I’m fine. Guan, what is the name of that half blood boy, the one that got a token from me?”

  “Junior Brother Hao? You’re finally going to ask about him again?” Guan let Que go; the younger was already priming his lungs.

  Hao? There is no loss in throwing a pawn at the board. The Fifth Elder looked up at Que and Guan as the two started to argue, weighing possibilities in his head.