My Sect Is Down to Seven People

Chapter 116: You Can Test For It

February 28, Dragon hour. The bowls had been cleared away. On the table in the Main Hall sat only a clay pot and a few upturned bowls, steam still rising from the spout.

Twelve people, the long benches full.

Xu Yan stood at one end of the table. From his chest he took out the folded regulations, smoothed them flat on the tabletop, and pressed one corner down with the bottom of the pot.

”Stay seated and listen,” he said. ”One thing, then weʼre done. On the twenty-seventh, during Monkey hour, Qi Qi went down the ridge.”

Qian Duoduo, coming in from the kitchen, pressed a hand against his apron.

”I sent him. To check the two things Huo Qing asked about. He didnʼt go past the wall.”

”I didnʼt,” Qi Qi said.

”At the end of You hour, two torches were lit on the inner sectʼs martial platform at Chixiao. Zhou Kui was up there alone, striking stone posts. Six rounds, a hundred and seventy-some strikes, most of a shichen, never sat down once. Between rounds he caught his breath twice.” Xu Yan spoke slowly. ”The second post from the east took the most hits. Toward the end, his neck went red from the collar up to the ears. His face didnʼt redden. No sweat—when he wiped his neck, his hand came away dry. Before he set the staff down, he pressed his right wrist. Held it for a good while.”

A Sui opened her mouth to ask, but A He tugged at her.

”Thatʼs overtraining,” Qian Duoduo said.

”Overtrained men donʼt go red up to the ears.” Cheng Banshan spoke from the doorway, one hand on his wine gourd, stopper still in. ”Spirit-surging medicine. The one the Alliance bans—called Boiling Spirit Powder.”

”Whereʼd it come from?”

”Not from a medicine shop. The alchemy chamber doesnʼt sell it.” Cheng Banshan said, ”Taken several days running, with the last pill just before the match. Borrows a stick of incense worth of Early Foundation Establishment strength.”

Shi Po shifted half his body forward. ”Borrowed from who?”

”No one. The medicine gives it.” Cheng Banshan said, ”One stick of incense, not a breath more.”

”How many days before it shows?” Huo Qing asked.

”First red at the neck, then up to the ears.” Cheng Banshan said, ”Neck red to the ears—thatʼs not a one- or two-day thing.”

Shao Ming set his hand on his knee and spoke slowly: ”Early Foundation Establishment strength—I have a share of that. Built up day by day after the poison cleared. Spend it, rest a night, and itʼs still there.” He raised his eyes to Cheng Banshan. ”His—after the stick of incense?”

”Gone.” Cheng Banshan said, ”The meridians empty. He canʼt lift his arm.”

”A stick of incense is enough.” Du Xiaochuan spoke very quietly. ”Inner sect medicine—outer sect people canʼt get near it. Two years I was at Chixiao, I only ever heard one name mentioned. Never saw the stuff.”

Someone shifted on the bench. No other sound.

”When does it break?” Huo Qing looked up.

”Within the stick of incense, it breaks once.” Cheng Banshan said, ”Which moment—thatʼs on him.”

”On him how?”

”On how hard he fights. Fight too hard, it breaks early. Conserve, it breaks late.” Cheng Banshan hung the gourd back on his belt. ”At the moment it breaks, the strength empties from his hand for an instant. Thatʼs when he shows.”

Huo Qing lowered his head and looked at his left hand. He looked for a long while, didnʼt lift his eyes.

Xu Yan pulled the regulation sheet out and read from it: ”Medicine is forbidden on the field. Before a match, the ring judge inspects the body face to face. If the chief evaluator has doubts on the field, he may come down and inspect personally, and his inspection stands. Anyone confirmed to have taken spirit-surging medicine—that round is ruled a loss. The sectʼs ranking is struck off. Filed on record.”

”Can you test for it?” Shi Po asked.

”Prick a drop of blood, drop it into a bowl of clean water.” Cheng Banshan said, ”If the water turns crimson, itʼs him.”

”Thatʼs the test?”

”Thatʼs the test.” Cheng Banshan said, ”If the man doing the testing is willing to test, then you can test for it.”

Qian Duoduo jumped in: ”The ring judge canʼt refuse to test. Itʼs in the regulations—four judges, one by one, wrist out.”

He leaned back against the bench as he finished, the breath leaving him like a pot set down off the stove. Shao Ming nodded once; Bai Xiaoman counted on her fingers—a drop of blood, a bowl of clean water, one glance and youʼd know—and said ”thatʼs not hard, then”; A Sui quietly asked A He how blood-testing worked, and A He didnʼt answer, just pulled her closer.

Xu Yan folded the regulation sheet back and pressed it under the pot.

”One more thing,” he said. ”Whatʼs said in this hall ends in this hall. Out that door, we donʼt speak of it again—not a word in town, not a word in Linchuan. If the medicine comes up, we only talk about the body-inspection rule. Anyone asks about Zhou Kui, say you donʼt know.”

”Not even in town?” Qian Duoduo asked.

”Not a word,” Xu Yan said. ”Say it out there, and the first thing people ask is which eye of ours saw it. Then they ask who taught us to identify the medicine. Two questions in, and the one who gets caught is Qi Qi.”

Qian Duoduo wiped his hands on his apron twice and said nothing more.

Qi Qi looked down at his bowl. It had long been empty. He kept looking.

Jiang Wan pressed a hand against the tableʼs edge, then drew it back and set it on her lap.

”Dismissed,” Xu Yan said.

People came out of the Main Hall with the sun already above the roof ridge.

Qian Duoduo got halfway across the courtyard, then turned back and stood in front of Shi Po. ”Within that stick of incense, he breaks once. Whereʼs that moment?”

”Donʼt know.”

”Then what do you do?”

Shi Po let his hands hang at his sides. ”Take it and wait.”

”What if you canʼt take it that long?”

”Incense burns out.” Shi Po said, ”When the incense is out, they rule.”

”What if he breaks behind your back?”

”I stand in my ring.” Shi Po thought for a moment, then added, ”Break or no break, I stand it to the end.”

Qian Duoduo opened his mouth, clapped him on the shoulder, and headed for the kitchen. Shi Po found the blue brick in the courtyard worn pale with footprints, stood on it, set his feet apart, and began standing pillar.

In front of the Ancestral Hall, Shao Ming brought the twins down to the stone steps and had them recite formulas. A Sui got halfway through and stopped: ”Uncle Shao, one drop of blood can really tell?”

”It can.”

”Then why did no one ever check before?”

”Thereʼs a layer between being able to see it and being willing to look,” Shao Ming said.

A Sui made a small ”oh” and went back to reciting. A He stood beside her, reciting faster.

Under the eaves, Bai Xiaoman sat with old ledger paper spread on her knees, a charcoal stick spinning between her fingers. Xu Yan passed by, and she looked up.

”Sect Master, that borrowed strength of his—the formation canʼt block it.”

”It canʼt.”

”The formation doesnʼt block, it discharges.” Bai Xiaoman said, ”The more he borrows, the more it discharges out. I wonʼt meet it head-on. I wait for that single break.”

”How long can your formation hold?”

”One formation canʼt last a full stick of incense.” She was honest about it. ”Last time I crossed out the outer ring myself. This time Iʼll use banners—they plant faster than pebbles, saves a little. Still wonʼt hold to the incense burning out. So I canʼt stand in one spot and grind it out with him.”

She tapped the charcoal on the corner of the paper and said no more.

At the far end of the veranda, Qi Qi leaned against a pillar, talking to Huo Qing, voice low.

”He pressed his right hand,” Qi Qi said.

”The staff hand.”

”The staff hand. Left hand pressing on it, held for a good while. Let go before he picked up the staff.”

Huo Qing didnʼt answer. He turned and walked to the old wooden target, took the sword off his back—one thrust, one pull-back, wood chips falling by his feet. He stopped before the second thrust, sword point resting against the target face.

”Which moment empties within that stick of incense—I canʼt count it out,” he said.

”Then you wait.”

”Anyone can wait. When that moment comes, my feet have to be there first.”

He slid the sword back into its sheath, drew it out again, and faced the target once more.

At the Medicine Hall entrance, Cheng Banshan bit the gourd stopper open with his teeth, took a drink, and held it in his hand.

”Thatʼs all Iʼll say,” he said. ”Whether they test or not isnʼt in our hands.”

”Mm.”

”Little Xu, since yesterday, youʼve said very little.”

Xu Yan pressed his hand against his cuff. ”Things without proof, I donʼt say.”

Cheng Banshan looked at him for a while, worked the stopper back in with his teeth, and went back into the Medicine Hall.

At You hour, the sun dropped onto the western ridge, and the window paper of the Accounts Room yellowed. Xu Yan went over the market ledger from the twenty-fifth once more and pushed the abacus to the corner of the desk.

Bai Xiaoman came in carrying a roll of old ledger paper. She spread it on the table and weighed down the four corners with small stones—one stone per corner.

”Sect Master, the formation layoutʼs done, and Iʼve priced it out.” She pushed the paper forward. ”One sheet of yellow silk, cut into four. One banner per piece. One packet of cinnabar, enough to draw on all four, with a layer left for touching up the edges.”

”Prices checked?”

”Checked twice. Cinnabarʼs not dear; the yellow silk is. One sheet of yellow silk costs what two packets of cinnabar do.” Bai Xiaoman held up four fingers on one hand and four on the other. ”Cinnabar four pieces, yellow silk eight, twelve total. Iʼve calculated it three times.”

”Show me how.”

She took the charcoal stick and wrote in the corner of the paper: two lines on top, a horizontal line beneath, then a figure. ”Like this. When I go to buy tomorrow, Iʼll show him this paper and tell him to charge according to this number.”

”The sheetʼs wide enough to cut four.”

”Wide enough. I measured with a cord. Cut four from one sheet and thereʼs a strip left over.” Bai Xiaoman said, ”Iʼll keep the leftover strip for patching flag corners.”

”How long does the cinnabar need grinding?”

”His is already ground fine. Bought and back, just add water and itʼs ready.” Bai Xiaoman said, ”Once Iʼm in Linchuan Iʼll get up early to draw. After drawing, air it a quarter-hour so it dries through.”

”Why not go to the shop across from the grocery—why Huichun Hall?”

”The coarse-ground wonʼt mix fine. Draw it on silk, and one fold and it sheds powder.” She said, ”The formation banners have to go onto the field. And the cart will jolt.”

Xu Yan looked over the paper, then raised his eyes. ”Youʼll go alone.”

”Alone.”

”Going through that door—hard?”

Bai Xiaomanʼs hand stilled on the paper. ”After the twenty-first of the sixth month, I havenʼt stepped through that shopʼs door. I stood behind that counter for three years—itʼs a head taller than me. This time, Iʼll stand outside.” She paused, then added, ”I have to buy his materials.”

”Pay whatʼs owed.” Xu Yan said, ”He sells, you buy. If he asks, you answer from the list.”

”I know.” She thought for a moment. ”Sect Master, Iʼll go in myself. I can carry that sheet of silk.”

Xu Yan pulled the abacus a little closer and flicked two beads up, then let his hand stop there.

Outside the door, someone halted on the threshold. A sword in her right hand, scabbard tip resting against the stone by the door.

”Iʼll go with her,” Jiang Wan said.

Xu Yan looked up from the abacus.

”Leave at Wei hour, reach town at Shen hour, buy, and head back,” he said. ”Start up the mountain at You hour, reach the Mountain Gate before dark. Donʼt stop along the way. If you meet anyone, donʼt engage.”

”Mm.”

”Go early, come back early.”

Jiang Wan turned and left, the sole of her shoe scuffing the threshold. Xu Yan opened the cash box and counted out twelve pieces, stacked them one by one along the edge of the desk, then slipped them into a small cloth pouch, tied it shut, and set it at Bai Xiaomanʼs hand.

Bai Xiaoman folded the paper into her sleeve, took up the cloth pouch, and turned back at the door: ”Sect Master, Iʼll come straight back. Wonʼt linger in town.”

”I know.”

She left.

The Accounts Room went quiet. Xu Yan wrote a line on the paper: Tomorrow, Wei hour, formation materials, twelve pieces, Bai Xiaoman, Jiang Wan. After writing it, he looked at the line and laid the brush flat.