My Sect Is Down to Seven People

Chapter 25: Five Elements Complete Root Bone

On the first day of the seventh month, a blank sheet of paper appeared on the Accounts Room desk.

Bai Xiaoman split Juneʼs accounts down the middle: income on the right, expenditures on the left, pinning the corners of the paper into a crack in the desk with a needle. Her right hand rested on the abacus, her left held the paper flat. Her eyes never left the page.

”June 20, forty pieces.” The abacus clicked once. ”The 25th, one hundred ten. The 30th, one hundred ten. Total, two hundred sixty.”

”Of that forty on the 20th, eighteen pieces were the ones that hit the ground.” She added the note, brush tip touching the paper lightly.

Xu Yan stood by the desk without moving.

”Expenditures, four entries.” She wrote downward. ”The 17th, spirit rice four pieces, medicinal herbs six; the 21st, spirit rice eight; the 25th, spirit rice eight; the 30th, spirit rice eight. Total, thirty-four.”

”Rice twenty-eight, herbs six.” She flipped the brush tip and drew a line under ”rice.” ”Juneʼs biggest income was spirit meals, and the biggest expense was also spirit meal rice. Herbs only cost six pieces because after the 23rd, they dug their own from the Back Mountain. That entry isnʼt in spirit stones. Itʼs in the Back Mountain.”

”June net, two hundred twenty-six.” Two flicks of her fingers. ”The thirdʼs ledger showed twenty-three on hand. Add this, two hundred forty-nine.”

She set down the brush and looked up. ”It matches last nightʼs count. I havenʼt made an error.”

Xu Yan watched the hand working the abacus. Five fingers each commanding a column. Other people counted bead by bead; she shoved whole clusters upward, her palm sweeping clean at the end, beads never colliding. The one bead sheʼd pried from the threshold crack at Huichun Hall sat among them, making the same sound as all the others.

”Two more entries arenʼt on this paper.” She turned it over. ”Five bowls, one tael of silver, recorded in the silver ledger, not touching spirit stones. Two furnace loads of elixirs, twenty bottles. The 23rdʼs batch sold out by the 25th; the 28thʼs sold out by the 30th. Elixirs sold, twenty empty bottles, all accounted for, separated with straw and stored in the wooden box.”

”Six market days in July.” She turned the paper back over, brush tip pointing at the bottom. ”The 5th, 10th, 15th, 20th, 25th, 30th. Ten bottles per market, sixty bottles. The charcoalʼs only enough for one more furnace load.”

”Spirit stones first,” Xu Yan said.

”Spirit stones first.” She repeated it, lifted the paper to the light for a look, set it back down, and pressed ”June” flat with her nail. The writing was small, every stroke true. ”Iʼm keeping this paper. End of July, Iʼll copy another, lay the two side by side, and see which entry grew and which shrank.”

Xu Yan pulled the thin ledger from beneath the account book and opened it.

[Debit: Heritage, one point.]

He read the line and waited.

[Audit: Bai Xiaoman. Root Bone: Five Elements Complete, suited for formations.]

Nothing below that.

Bai Xiaoman saw him standing there holding an old ledger and glanced at the open page, then looked away. What she saw was a blank old sheet, its edges curled.

”Sect Master, the accounts wrong?”

”Right.”

”Then why are you just standing there.”

He closed the ledger, pressed it back beneath the account book, and let his hand rest on the cover for a moment.

”You can learn formations.”

She pushed the abacus half an inch toward the center of the desk. ”Learn what?”

”Formations.”

”Me?” She laughed, caught herself mid-laugh. ”Five-Element Mixed Spirit Root.”

”Who said that.”

”Nobody needs to say it.” She smoothed her hand across the paper. ”All five elements, none of them strong. The proprietor at Huichun Hall said it. People in town say it. Someone with one element cultivates ten years and climbs steadily. Five elements all sitting together—none of them will take the first step, none will yield.”

Xu Yan stood there, saying nothing.

”My mother used to say, a mixed spirit root is still a spirit root. If you can cultivate, thatʼs enough.” She pressed down on the abacus beam. ”She never cultivated. It was just something she said.”

”I had my spirit tested,” Xu Yan said. ”Defective Spirit Root.”

Her hand stopped on the beads.

”And the defective one is still on this mountain.” He pressed the ledger tighter. ”Stuck at Qi Condensation Third Layer for five years.”

Bai Xiaoman opened her mouth, no sound came out at first.

”Whatʼs the point of learning formations,” she asked instead.

”The sect-protecting formation.”

”That formation—Iʼve never even seen what it looks like.”

”Neither have I.”

”Does learning formations cost spirit stones?”

”No spirit stones.” He said, ”It takes a person.”

She pressed both hands flat on the paper, fingertips against the two lines of figures sheʼd just written. ”Then how do you know I can learn formations.”

”We try first.” He said, ”If it doesnʼt work out, you come back to the books.”

”How long will the trial take?”

”I donʼt know.”

”Who does the accounts?”

”You.” He opened the ledger to Julyʼs page. ”Mornings, accounts. Afternoons, learn formations. Market days, go down the mountain as usual. Everything else, the same.”

She stared at that page for a while, then wrapped the abacus in cloth, tied it, untied it, and tied it again.

”Iʼll try.” She said, ”Trial or not, Iʼm still doing the books. Iʼm not giving up that work.”

”You wonʼt have to.”

”The formation map?”

”Iʼll find it.”

She carried the abacus out of the Accounts Room. On the steps below, A Sui was calling up to Shi Po, asking whether heʼd eat a second bowl at noon. She called twice before Shi Po answered, his voice coming from behind the half-wall across the courtyard.

Xu Yan turned the line over in his mind once—Five Elements Complete, suited for formations. Twice—then ground ink and recorded a line in the blank space of the ledger: July 1, formation, one person.

Noon, Medicine Hall.

The sun sat squarely on the roof ridge. The astragalus drying on the bamboo mat had curled at the edges. Cheng Banshan squatted by the matʼs edge, gathering dried herbs into a winnowing basket. Halfway through, he reached down, grabbed the wine gourd, and took a swig.

”Little Xu.” He didnʼt turn. ”Smelled the medicine and came over?”

”Come to ask about the formation.”

He set the basket on the mat, braced one hand on his knee to stand. His other sleeve hung empty, plastering against his side in the breeze. The pile of charcoal in the corner gleamed black, noticeably lower than before.

”Which formation.”

”The sect-protecting formation.”

”Why ask about that.” Cheng Banshan sat down on the doorsill. ”Autumn Evaluationʼs coming.”

”Double Ninth. The Rank Evaluator will inspect. What they check is whether the formation can be raised—the full formation—covering the Mountain Gate and the Ancestral Hall, holding for a full hour.”

”Raised.” He let out a short laugh. ”It hasnʼt been fully raised in forty years.”

Xu Yan said nothing.

”After Year 260 of the Alliance Calendar, thereʼs been no one on this mountain who could activate it.” He cradled the gourd on his knee. ”Two hundred seventy, two hundred eighty, two hundred ninety—three re-evaluations. All three times, the Old Sect Master went up to activate it himself.”

”How much did he manage to raise?”

”One corner.” He traced a curve in the air. ”A green-white haze rises from the stone platform, climbs east along the ridge, and breaks right after passing the Mountain Gate. Covers the gate, canʼt reach the Ancestral Hall. Heʼd come down and need the wall to walk.”

”His root bone.”

”Only east side answers him. The other slots—he calls, they donʼt respond.” Cheng Banshan drank. ”First time, his wrist shook for a month. Couldnʼt hold a bowl. Second time, he came off the formation and lay up for half a year. Didnʼt feed himself until spring.”

”The third time?”

”That time, Year two hundred ninety, he forced the other slots. Cracked three formation stones.” Cheng Banshan paused. ”Cracked, and no money to replace them. Nobodyʼs gone up since.”

”What did the Rank Evaluator make of it.”

”The one who came that year watched him finish and then held out his own wrist for the old man to see. Shaking like that—couldnʼt even write. The man wrote ʼformation raisedʼ in the register, and that settled it. A different evaluator, whether one corner counts—depends on the man.”

”How much time is left.”

”Two months and change,” Xu Yan said.

”Two months and change.” Cheng Banshan repeated it. ”And if it fails.”

”No Ninth Rank. The Mountain Gate deed goes to Chixiao.”

Cheng Banshan didnʼt press. He gestured toward the wall with his chin. ”This pile of charcoal—one furnace load left. Iʼm holding it in reserve. After the 28th, the furnace burns firewood.”

Xu Yan looked at the furnace mouth. The fire in the chamber was banked low. Beside it, a half-cord of split firewood stood stacked, pieces roughly uniform, one against the next. The few near the wall were still damp.

”Can wood fire make elixirs?”

”It can. Just unstable.” Cheng Banshan said, ”Charcoal burns one steady breath the whole way through—even. Wood fire rises and falls; add too early and it flares, too late and it collapses. Pine burns fast, mixed hardwoods slow. Every piece has to be weighed in the hand before it goes in. One furnace load of elixirs, someone has to watch it start to finish—read the color of the fireʼs heart, listen to the chamber, feed it at intervals all through.”

”Who keeps watch.”

”Me.” He spread his hand, looked at it, closed it again. ”At night I doze; the moment the fire drops, I wake. I never had to do this before. When the Old Sect Master was alive, charcoal was always on hand.”

Xu Yan nodded. One furnace load, one keeper of the fire, several sleepless nights. Not a line in any spirit stone ledger. He recorded it in his mind all the same.

”What kind of person does it take to activate the formation?”

”Someone whose root bone holds all five elements complete.” Cheng Banshan said, ”Missing one—the slot wonʼt answer you. Wonʼt answer, wonʼt light. In forty years, no one like that has come out of this mountain.”

”You canʼt activate it.”

”I make elixirs.” He wiped his hand on his sleeve. ”One hand of alchemy flame—the southern piece will answer me. The northern slot, I call, it stays silent.”

He tapped the gourd against his knee, lifted his eyes to Xu Yan. ”Why are you asking about all this anyway. You planning to activate it yourself?”

”No.” Xu Yan said, ”Bai Xiaoman.”

Cheng Banshanʼs hand stilled on the gourd. ”That girl?”

”Mm.”

”Five-Element Mixed Spirit Root.”

”All five elements are there.”

Cheng Banshan lowered the gourd and studied him for a long moment. ”How do you know.”

Xu Yan didnʼt answer.

The Medicine Hall went quiet. The only sound was the drying mat overhead flapping up once in the wind and slapping back down.

”Five elements present, versus five elements complete—the difference is in the word ʼcomplete.ʼ” Cheng Banshan said. ”That ʼcompleteʼ—no oneʼs filled it in forty years.” He took up the gourd again, drank, wiped his mouth. ”That ledger of yours is more accurate than my scale. Last time you said it was stuck long and loosening, and you were exactly right. If youʼre right this time too—then thereʼs someone on this mountain who can raise it.”

”The formation stones havenʼt been bought yet.” Xu Yan said, ”And I donʼt know where the formation eye is.”

”Three formation stones. The money, you can figure; I wonʼt ask. The formation eye—thereʼs no one I can ask.” Cheng Banshan cradled the gourd on his knee and thought for a good while before speaking.

”Where the formation is on the Back Mountain—he never told me.”

The wind lifted a corner of the drying mat. Xu Yan closed the ledger and looked north. The trees of the Back Mountain rose layer upon layer. No path was visible anywhere.