My Sect Is Down to Seven People

Chapter 16: The Stone Grew Lighter

His bones cracked all night.

After the sound that came just past midnight, it didnʼt stop. First one joint, then a long pause, then another—rising from his tailbone up his spine, one vertebra at a time. It paused at his back, longer than anywhere else, then kept climbing.

Shi Po never moved. The threshold stone pressed down on his right shoulder, his breath rising and falling, the stone rising and falling with him.

He counted the cracks in his head. Lost track somewhere past a dozen, started over; eventually, he stopped counting.

Xu Yan sat in the Accounts Room, listening. The lamp wick was trimmed fine, the flame standing straight up, the ledger open before him—not a single line added. He came out once, asked Shi Po if he could still stand. Shi Po said he could. Asked if it hurt. Shi Po said it didnʼt. So Xu Yan went back inside. When he came out again, he had a jacket slung over his shoulder, and he stood under the eaves without asking anything more.

Qian Duoduo squatted on the doorstep, dozing, his head bobbing. Around the seventh or eighth crack, he woke up, wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked up at the person underneath the stone.

”Does it hurt?” he whispered.

Shi Po shook his head. Sweat ran down his face from his temples to his chin, hanging there, not falling.

”Should I... go get Elder Cheng?”

”No.”

The crack came beneath his shoulder blade. He grunted, his shoulder sinking half an inch. The stone swayed, then steadied. Qian Duoduo reached up with both hands to push it, couldnʼt budge it, his face reddening, his feet bracing against the step.

”Donʼt push.”

Qian Duoduo let go, stepped back two paces, stood there looking up.

The sky lightened over the eastern mountain. The first thing visible in the front courtyard was the dirt that had fallen all over the ground, then the two shadows, one long, one short.

The last crack sounded inside his shoulder blade. Shorter than the others, duller too—like someone prying apart a knot tied dead-tight inside bone.

The stone swayed on his shoulder.

Shi Po straightened his back.

The stone held. He stood there for a while before reaching up to take it off. He didnʼt tilt his shoulder and let it roll down the way heʼd done the past few days. He slid both hands underneath it, lifted it clear of his shoulder, bent down, and set it back against the wall by the gate.

When the stone hit the ground, the whole Mountain Gate shook. A little dust sifted down from the eave corners, falling on Shi Poʼs own head. He didnʼt brush it off.

He stepped back, his foot landing on the topmost stone step. The step made a sound—wrong sound—and a crack split diagonally from the middle to the edge, a seam already filling with dust.

Shi Po crouched down and pressed a finger against the crack.

Xu Yan stood under the eaves. He watched Shi Po crouch to press the step, and he watched the ledger flip a page in front of his eyes.

[Credit: Shi Po, Qi Condensation First Layer.]

Before he could process what that line meant, the place behind his waist moved first.

That layer of qi beyond Qi Condensation Third Layer—for five years heʼd sat in meditation, breathed according to Qingyaʼs entry formula, tried to press his spiritual power downward—not a fraction of it had ever budged. Now it had loosened. Loosened lightly. First a thread of warmth rose from behind his waist up his spine, over his shoulders, spreading outward; when it reached his palms, he reached out and braced himself against the gatepost.

The paint had long since peeled off the gatepost. The wood was cold. His palm was hot.

[Balance: Sect Master, Qi Condensation Fourth Layer.]

He stood holding the post, waiting for that warmth to settle. When it settled, he guided the qi into his palm—a thin layer of heat, far thicker than anything heʼd managed at Third Layer. All those methods heʼd tried over the five years, not a single one had worked; this surge had come from the person carrying stones down at the Mountain Gate.

He let go of the post and flexed his fingers. Fourth Layer was thicker than Third, but still a long way from the one in the East Courtyard. This layer couldnʼt do much—itʼd just save him a rest break or two on the way up and down the mountain.

Shi Po straightened and turned around, saw him holding the gatepost.

”Sect Master.”

”Your bones have opened,” Xu Yan said.

”Theyʼve opened,” Shi Po said.

”Youʼve entered Qi Condensation First Layer.”

Shi Po ran that sentence through his mouth slowly, afraid of getting it wrong. He raised his hand and looked at it. On the web between thumb and forefinger, where heʼd scraped off a piece of skin fixing the steps, the scab had fallen off during the night, leaving fresh pink flesh underneath, lighter than the skin around it.

”So... that counts as cultivating?”

”It counts,” Xu Yan said. ”Youʼre at Qi Condensation First Layer.”

Shi Po pressed a hand to his shoulder and said, ”Itʼs hot inside.”

Qian Duoduo jumped up from the doorstep, slapped his fat hands against his shirt, and ran toward the courtyard. Two steps out he turned and yelled toward the West Wing: ”A Sui! Senior Brother Shi broke through to Qi Condensation!”

A Sui came bursting out of the West Wing before her shoes were even on straight, half her hair behind her head and half across her face. ”Broke through to what?”

”Qi Condensation First Layer,” Shi Po answered himself.

A Sui let out an ”Ah!” and circled around him once, found nothing to see, and looked up. ”Sect Master, does entering Qi Condensation make him a cultivator?”

”Heʼs a cultivator now.”

A He came out behind her, crouched by the stone steps to look at the crack, and raised his head. ”Itʼs split.”

Down at the Mountain Gate, Nie Bo swept as usual, the broom passing over the crack without stopping.

Shi Po walked over and picked up the half-stone by the wall, lifting it chest-high, then set it back down.

”Itʼs lighter,” he said.

”Whatʼs lighter?” Qian Duoduo went over and shoved the half-stone. It didnʼt move.

”The stone is lighter.”

A He jumped over and grabbed the edge with both hands, trying to lift it. Couldnʼt. Panting, he asked, ”How much can you carry now?”

”Havenʼt tried.”

Shi Po raised his left arm overhead. It slowed halfway to shoulder height, paused, then kept going. The purple bruise on his left shoulder had faded halfway since yesterday, though a dark patch remained in the middle.

”Does your shoulder still hurt?” Qian Duoduo asked.

”No.”

Breakfast was in the kitchen. Shi Po ate six bowls.

Qian Duoduo stood by the pot counting bowls. His expression was normal through the fifth. At the sixth, he set down the ladle and wiped both hands on his apron.

”His first day, it was only five bowls,” he muttered, sidling up to Xu Yan.

Xu Yan finished the last bite in his bowl. ”Write it down.”

”Writing it down doesnʼt turn it into rice,” Qian Duoduo said. ”You can see the bottom of the grain jar.”

A Sui stuffed the last piece of flatbread into her mouth and said, indistinctly, ”If Senior Brother Shiʼs only going to get stronger, wonʼt he eat even more?”

Nobody answered. A He kicked her under the table.

Shi Po stacked his bowls. ”Sect Master, what are we doing today?”

”Standing pillar. The Medicine Hallʼs firewood is still piled up.”

At the Snake hour, Cheng Banshan came over from the Medicine Hall, wine gourd in one hand, and stopped in front of the Mountain Gate.

”Little Xu, you broke through?”

”Stuck a long time. It loosened,” Xu Yan said.

Cheng Banshanʼs gaze lingered on his face for a moment. He didnʼt ask further. He turned to look at Shi Poʼs hands.

”Carried that all night, and carried himself right into Qi Condensation First Layer.” He took a swig of wine, hung the gourd back on his waist, and pressed a hand against Shi Poʼs left shoulder blade.

Shi Po didnʼt flinch.

”The boneʼs grown back. The flesh hasnʼt,” Cheng Banshan said. ”Keep applying the salve. When the jarʼs empty, return it.”

”Mm.”

”Youʼll know when it rains.” He pulled his hand back. ”Donʼt tell me then itʼs from the stone pressing down. I can tell the difference.”

He headed toward the Medicine Hall, then looked back after a few steps: ”Two people broke through in one night. The spiritual qi on this mountain—seems like itʼs actually gotten richer.”

Xu Yan didnʼt answer.

Cheng Banshan didnʼt wait either. He took down the wine gourd, swung it as he walked, and his voice drifted back over the courtyard wall: ”One more Qi Condensation cultivator at Qingya. Thatʼs a good thing. Figure out the rice situation yourself.”

”Iʼm figuring,” Xu Yan said to the wall.

Jiang Wan stood on the low wall of the East Courtyard, her sword cradled across her arm. Sheʼd been standing there a while. When Xu Yan looked up, sheʼd already turned away and stepped down through the gap in the wall. Sword sounds rose from the other side—stroke after stroke, unhurried.

A Sui came out of the kitchen holding her bowl and looked toward the East Courtyard. ”Why was Senior Sister standing on the wall?”

”Donʼt ask,” A He said.

In the afternoon, Xu Yan spread the old silk scroll on the steps of the Mountain Gate and turned to a later section.

”Walking pillar,” he read, line by line. ”Keep the stone across your shoulder as before. Both the lift and the landing must be slow. One pass end to end, no shifting shoulders. If the stone so much as sways, the trip is wasted.”

He held the scroll down with broken tiles and walked a pass himself first. Empty-handed, shoulders perfectly level from the steps to the courtyard wall and back.

Shi Po lifted the threshold stone from the wall, laid it across his right shoulder, and stepped off.

First step slow, second step slower. On the fifth step, the stone swayed on his shoulder. He stopped, retreated, started again.

”Same way as carrying the stone slab,” he said.

”Not the same,” Xu Yan said. ”The slab was roped to your back. When it swayed, you pushed back with your shoulder. This one has no rope—if it sways, it means your waist gave way first.”

”Twenty-five steps to the end,” Shi Po counted aloud. One pass took him a little under half an incense stick.

The second and third passes still swayed. On the fourth, the stone steadied in the middle of the courtyard, then swayed again near the wall. He said nothing, retreated, and started over from the steps.

A He crouched by the steps counting for him, lost track after a dozen or so. A Sui imitated his steps in the courtyard; after three steps her shoulders were tilted badly and she laughed at herself.

Somewhere past the tenth pass, there was one where the stone never swayed from start to finish.

He stopped, sweat pouring down the back of his neck, the purple bruise on his left shoulder gleaming wet.

”Say something if the left shoulder hurts,” Xu Yan said.

”It doesnʼt.”

”On days when the pillarʼs unsteady, one clean pass is enough. More than that is useless.” Xu Yan rolled up the scroll. ”Once youʼve got this section solid, Iʼll turn further.”

”What comes after?”

”Carrying pillar.”

”Carrying what?”

”The scroll hasnʼt gotten that far yet,” Xu Yan said. ”Weʼll talk when the walking pillar is steady.”

Shi Po acknowledged, then walked over to the steps and crouched down to feel the crack.

”Iʼll fix it.”

”Fix it once the pillarʼs steady,” Xu Yan said. ”The step isnʼt going anywhere.”

Shi Po acknowledged again and laid the stone back across his right shoulder.

That night, the lamp in the Accounts Room was lit.

Xu Yan put brush to the new ledger: Sixth month, fifteenth day. Shi Po, Qi Condensation First Layer.

Below, a new line: Mountain Gate, topmost stone step, one crack, unfixed.

Flipping back further, those old lines: Shi Po, failed to draw qi—one line; stone steps, third tier, repaired; rice, three dou, followed by a drawn line with nothing after it.

The brush tip hovered after that line. Still empty.

He set the brush down and counted on his fingers. From tomorrow to the Double Ninth: eighty-four days.

Two people on the roster. The ledger needed ten.

Eight short.

Footsteps sounded outside the window. Step by step, very slow. A step, a pause, another step.

Xu Yan blew out the lamp and walked to the door.

No one had lit any lamps in the front courtyard. Moonlight fell on the blue stone ground. Shi Po walked from one end of the courtyard toward the wall, the threshold stone across his shoulder, moving with extreme slowness.

Halfway across, the stone swayed on his shoulder. He stopped, retreated to the steps, and started again from the beginning.