Chương 8: A Bad Little Temper

Biên tập viên: celllll, Nou

"Show me your token!" a chilling voice demanded, belonging to the shixiong with the corpse-like face who’d taken Fang Xing to Elder Gao for questioning. He’d been waiting outside of the garret room, and a sweep of his sleeve caused the wooden block to fly into his hands.

"D-Rank? Another useless one." The young man flipped the token over as he looked to Fang Xing with disdain. "I’m actually quite busy right now; just go to Qing-Mu Hall on your own." He pointed off in a direction and turned to leave.

"I’ll remember you, just you wait!" Fang Xing muttered hatefully under his breath. This corpse-faced shixiong was clearly supposed to guide Fang Xing to this place called "Qing-Mu Hall", but it seemed his assigned rank made him too unimportant and he’d been left to find the hall on his own.

As Fang Xing walked towards the direction the corpse-faced man had pointed, he uttered an endless string of curses beneath his breath. ‘How the hell do I know where this "Qing-Mu Hall" is? Everything here looks the same!’

"Err… is that you? Shidi Fang Xing?" A familiar voice rang out, followed by a fat figure that stopped only a few inches away from Fang Xing.

It was the plump Daoist Fang Xing had been drinking with the night before, now embarrassed. He’d promised he would be waiting for Fang Xing at the Samsara Bell in the morning, but who would have known he’d oversleep and not wake up until the bell actually rang? After realizing he was late, he’d rushed hurriedly towards the bell only to bump into the cursing Fang Xing.

Fang Xing smiled in welcome, immediately understanding what was in Yu Sanliang’s thoughts. "Isn’t that Shixiong Zhu? I’ve been waiting for you, where have you been?"

"Ah… ahem. My name really is Yu, not Zhu…." Seeing that Fang Xing was actually quite pleased, Yu Sanliang dropped his worries and smiled as well. "Sorry to have kept you waiting, Shidi Fang Xing. By the way… why are you alone? Where’s the shixiong that was supposed to guide you?"

"Well, there was this corpse-faced shixiong who was supposed to, but he suddenly had diarrhea and ran to the toilet. Since I couldn’t wait any longer, I decided to go on my own."

"Cultivators can get diarrhea…?"

"Who knows? Maybe his intestines have rotted," Fang Xing cursed the corpse-faced shixiong one last time before cheerfully hooking his arm around Yu Sanliang’s fat neck. Fang Xing was quite a few inches shorter by comparison, so it took some effort even with Yu Sanliang bending down slightly to help him reach.

"Which rank did you get into?"

"What’s yours?"

"Unfortunately, I’m in the lowest, D-Rank."

"Hah! In that case, we’re the same!"

Two figures of stark contrast—one tall with the other short, one fat with the other thin—walked merrily towards the Qing-Mu Hall together.

Yu Sanliang didn’t think twice about Fang Xing being placed in the same rank as him, and Fang Xing also learned from Yu Sanliang that within all of the outer court disciples, more than half belonged to the D-Rank—the lowest rank in the sect. Half of the remainder was in the slightly better C-Rank, while only an eighth of the outer court disciples total belonged to the B-Rank.

For the best—A-Rank—there was only a handful of people with suitable aptitude or background to qualify. Each of these individuals was a treasure to the entire sect, as they were the ones most likely to progress the furthest.

‘On the bright side,’ Fang Xing thought to himself, ‘at least I’m not the absolute worst.’

It wasn’t long before the pair arrived at the Qing-Mu Hall. It was another wooden garret, although this time it was three stories tall. It looked like nothing special upon first glance, but closer inspection revealed details in the connecting parts of the entire structure that showed off the designers and artisans’ fine craftsmanship. It was simple, yet impressively solemn.

Once Fang Xing and Yu Sanliang had walked up to the garret, a meager old man moved to greet them, and Yu Sanliang grabbed onto Fang Xing’s sleeve while introducing the newcomer as "Shixiong Chao". With a little help from the Book of Revelation, Fang Xing learned this man—seeming nearly as old as Elder Gao—had only achieved the fourth tier of Spirit Stage. Regardless, Fang Xing still wouldn’t have a chance against him in a fight.

Once Shixiong Chao saw Fang Xing’s token, there was no further questioning. Fang Xing was soon assigned to a district within the outer sect’s living quarters and given a new set of robes that would identify him as an outer court disciple; the remaining chapters of the Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation manual; and a red pebble-sized rock—a low-grade Spirit Stone. Fang Xing was then hurriedly sent off towards the Pavilion of Spirit Tools.

"Don’t underestimate a single Spirit Stone like this; not only can you use this to exchange for things you want, our cultivation almost entirely relies on it as well," Yu Sanliang began to eagerly explain as he saw Fang Xing playing around with the Spirit Stone in his hand. "We only get one of these every three months… but in the world we used to live in, a single pebble-sized Spirit Stone is worth over one hundred taels of gold!"

"Only one every three months? Why is the sect so cheap!" Fang Xing complained, dissatisfied.

"One every three months is already pretty good, you know; at least we have something! It’s because of our lack of talent; even if we’re all outer court disciples, C-Rank disciples receive one stone every two months, and B-Ranks receive one every month…. As for those A-Ranks, they’re moneybags that get two every month!"

"Hrm, moneybags, you say? Maybe I could borrow something from them someday…."

"Are you serious? Those A-Ranks are not to be messed with! If there’s any dispute—even if we were the ones provoked by them—the elders will still pin all the blame on us. If you want to make some extra stones, I can actually introduce you to some departmental duties. It’ll earn you another one of these Spirit Stones every three months as a wage—it’s like instantly doubling your income!"

"Hah, that might not be a good fit for me, but I’ll think about the offer anyway."

The pair chatted with high spirits as they arrived at the front of the Pavilion of Spirit Tools. Suddenly remembering something, Yu Sanliang began to caution in a low voice, "By the way, once you’re inside the pavilion, give the shixiong that guards the place the stone. He’ll help you choose a better spirit tool…."

"Are you kidding me?" Fang Xing was stumped for a moment before he rolled his eyes. "We only get one every three months! One! Why the hell should I hand it over to someone else?"

Fang Xing’s question left Yu Sanliang torn between laughter and tears. "Shidi Fang Xing, this is no time to be stingy. We only get to choose a spirit tool once! Each tool in the pavilion once belonged to an elder of the sect, but not all of them are useful or even in good condition," he patiently explained. "Now, if you give the guardian shixiong a Spirit Stone, he will guide you to a more powerful one, but if you don’t…."

Yu Sanliang swallowed some saliva before taking a talisman out of his pocket. "This is what I got for not giving them a Spirit Stone when I first entered the sect. They told me this sword talisman could release sword powers equivalent to that of a tier four! I was so excited then and believed I had found a treasure, but who would have thought this talisman could only be used once…. That once was used up when I tested it in the pavilion, and now I just hold on to it as a keepsake."

‘So you’re one of those spineless idiots, too! No wonder you only strut around the daotongs.’ Although Fang Xing’s thoughts were filled with contempt for Yu Sanliang’s cowardly behavior, he still showed polite gratitude, "Thank you for pointing that out to me, Shixiong."

—

As Fang Xing swaggered into the entrance of the pavilion, a loud voice suddenly reverberated throughout the room, "How outrageous! Do you know where this is? This is the Pavilion of Spirit Tools! Who do you think you are!"

Fang Xing jumped at the sudden voice as three men appeared from the back of the pavilion. The person in the lead appeared to be in his thirties, with a thin body and a small mustache on his face. His shifty eyes were even more mouse-like than those of Mousy from the herb field.

Fang Xing was able to see their cultivation stages clearly and without much effort: the mustached man was in tier three, and the other two were in tier two. Understanding that they were just posturing to show who was in charge here, Fang Xing responded in a polite manner. "My name is Fang Xing, the newest outer court disciple. Please, take a look at my token from Elder Gao…."

Satisfied with Fang Xing’s demeanor, the mustached man grabbed the token and smiled, revealing his stained teeth. "I see, so you’re the one who rang the Samsara Bell earlier today, is it? I’ll forgive you this time since you didn’t know the rules around here. But… did you come here empty-handed?" he tried to hint to Fang Xing about the stone, his eyes sparkling all the while.

"What? What do you mean?" Fang Xing pretended to miss the signal the mustached man tried to send, and responded just as innocently as any regular ten-year-old child would.

There was no way he was willing to give up his only Spirit Stone without a very good reason. Besides, while others may need these shixiongs to guide and help to pick out a spirit tool, Fang Xing had the Book of Revelation; was there anyone who could compete with him in the art of appraisal?

"What a disgrace you are! Don’t act like you don’t know about this, hurry up and hand over your Spirit Stone or get the hell out of here!" one of the other men impatiently yelled, throwing away all manners and shame to go directly for the prize.

Fang Xing’s expression also changed as he was yelled at. He’d originally decided he would hand over his Spirit Stone to the leader even though he really didn’t want to—if only just to keep a low profile—but Fang Xing was only open to persuasion, not coercion. As soon as the man started to yell at him, he decided there was no way he would hand over the Spirit Stone anymore. Definitely not to them, at least. In a voice even louder, he yelled out, "I only get one stone every three months! Why in the hell should I give it to you bastards?"

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