My Sect Is Down to Seven People

Chapter 165: The Blue-Black Palm Print

Her fingers were locked around the sword hilt. They couldnʼt pry them loose.

Cheng Banshan tried once, working her thumb outward half an inch. The joint snapped back, gripping tighter than before. He stopped trying.

”Set it by her hand. If she wants to hold it, let her hold it.”

Shi Po laid the sword and her hand together on the flat stone, tip pointing outward. Bai Xiaoman shook out a bundle cloth and slipped it beneath her head. Qi Qi stood off to the side holding the scabbard, glanced at it, then set it at the corner of the flat stone too.

The stone chamber was small. A faint glimmer of light from the pool drifted in and fell along the edge of the flat stone. Cheng Banshan sat down beside her feet and worked the medicine pouch off his waist with one hand, settling it on his knee.

”Xiaoman,” he said. ”Lift her clothes to the ribs. Only that spot. Nothing else gets exposed.”

Bai Xiaoman knelt down, pinched the hem of the garment with both hands, and raised it bit by bit. She stopped just below the right ribs and pressed the fabric down on both sides. Everyone else in the chamber had already stepped outside. Shao Ming and Huo Qing stood by the pool, backs to the doorway. Xu Yan stood just inside the door frame, also facing away from the stone.

The palm print was blue-black.

Five finger marks, perfectly clear, pressed just behind and below the right ribs. The skin wasnʼt broken. The color faded from the center outward, the outermost ring gone yellow. That patch sat slightly higher than the surrounding skin—it looked swollen, but it gave softly under pressure.

Cheng Banshanʼs three fingers settled at the edge of the print and pressed slowly inward. On the third press, Jiang Wanʼs brow twitched. Her fingers tightened around the sword hilt again, but she didnʼt wake.

”No broken ribs.” He withdrew his hand and wiped it against his knee. ”The bones are fine. The injuryʼs inside—tendons and blood tangled together, canʼt disperse.”

Bai Xiaoman was still staring at that patch of blue-black.

”Put the clothes back down,” Cheng Banshan said.

She smoothed the fabric in place, pulling each layer down and pressing it flat.

Cheng Banshan opened the medicine pouch and reached inside, drawing out a pill the size of a fingertip, dark brown. He passed it under his nose first, then dropped it into his palm.

”Break it.” He held out his hand to Bai Xiaoman. ”I canʼt split it evenly with one hand.”

She took it in both hands, pressed it against the flat stone, and worked at the middle with her thumbnail. It took three tries to split it in two. One half rolled toward a crack in the stone; she caught it quickly.

”Half is enough. More and she wonʼt be able to take it.”

”Water?” Cheng Banshan turned his head.

”Here.” Qian Duoduo answered from the doorway and came in carrying water, stepping carefully so the surface didnʼt spill.

Xu Yan turned sideways to let him pass, then turned back.

Bai Xiaoman lifted Jiang Wanʼs head slightly. Cheng Banshan pinched the half pill between two fingers and tucked it under her tongue. Qian Duoduo brought the water to her lips and fed it to her little by little. She swallowed twice. The second time she choked and coughed up a mouthful. Her eyes stayed shut, but a small sound came from her throat.

”Slower,” Cheng Banshan said.

They fed her more water, and this time it went down. The pill dissolved under her tongue, leaving a little residue at the corner of her mouth. Bai Xiaoman wiped it away with her sleeve.

Cheng Banshan took out a small clay box from the medicine pouch and opened it on his knee. Inside was a layer of gray-green salve. He picked up a bit and spread it over the palm print—thin, no rubbing.

”This top layer is to keep the swelling down. The internal injury has to be treated through the mouth. One pill a day. Feed her the next one at Dragon hour tomorrow.”

”Then the twelve stalks picked by the pool—” Bai Xiaoman started, then stopped.

”Those are for alchemy.” Cheng Banshan closed the clay box. ”Theyʼre for refining pills, not for treating internal injuries. They wonʼt help right now.”

He said no more, putting the box back in the pouch. Bai Xiaoman didnʼt ask again.

Light fell from above, landing at the chamberʼs entrance and crawling inward, inch by inch. Cheng Banshan sat for a long while. He tucked his empty sleeve behind his back, and every so often heʼd lay three fingers on Jiang Wanʼs wrist, then withdraw them and say nothing.

Qian Duoduo made trip after trip carrying water from the pool, setting a full vessel by the flat stone and taking the empty one out. At the door, Xu Yan said, ”Qian Duoduo, fill the water flasks.”

”Theyʼre full,” Qian Duoduo said. ”Filled them twice.”

”Fill them again.”

Qian Duoduo blinked, then carried the flasks out.

Qi Qi stood by the door, his eyes fixed on the stone terrace beyond. Xu Yan walked over and lowered his voice. ”Go look. If anyoneʼs coming this way, come back and report.”

”And if they—” Qi Qi gestured at his chest.

”Just watch. Donʼt go over. Donʼt speak.”

Qi Qi acknowledged and slipped away along the rock wall.

By the time the daylight reached the edge of the flat stone, Jiang Wanʼs breathing had deepened. Her chest rose and fell slowly. The pallor had receded some from her face, leaving only her lips still pale. The sweat had dried, a faint trace left at her temples.

Bai Xiaoman crouched at the near end of the flat stone and hadnʼt moved. She made no sound, but tears fell onto the stone, one drop after another, vanishing as they hit. She wiped at them once with the back of her hand. It didnʼt help, so she stopped wiping and pressed both hands to her knees.

”Why are you crying,” Cheng Banshan said. ”Sheʼs still here.”

”I know.”

”Then you know why youʼre crying. Keep quiet. Sheʼs asleep.”

Bai Xiaoman pressed her lips together. Her shoulders shook twice before she got her breath under control.

The hour of Wei had mostly passed, and still there was no movement from the stone terrace. Xu Yan stood at the door for a while, then turned and came inside. He looked at the person on the flat stone, then at Cheng Banshan.

”How is she?”

”Watching,” Cheng Banshan said. ”Iʼll check her pulse again at Dog hour. I wonʼt say how many days until Iʼve checked twice.”

At Dog hour, the light had thinned to almost nothing. Only silhouettes were visible in the stone chamber.

Qian Duoduo passed out coarse grain cakes one by one, soaking them in the pool water until soft before handing them over. One cake reached Qi Qi, who took it and bit into it, then turned to glance at the door again. When the last cake was left, he wrapped it back up in the clean half of the cloth and placed it at the edge of the flat stone.

”Her portion stays there for now,” he said. ”Weʼll soak it when she wakes.”

Cheng Banshan rose and sat down at the edge of the flat stone. He laid three fingers on Jiang Wanʼs wrist and held them there longer than he had in the daytime. When he released, he pressed through her clothes at the right ribs—one press, listening to the breath she let out.

He stood and walked to the doorway.

”Xu Yan.”

Xu Yan rose from the stone.

”The rib injury will heal with rest,” Cheng Banshan said. ”Her strength is drained. Sheʼll be weak for ten days. She can walk, but she canʼt lift a sword.”

The chamber went quiet. Shao Ming looked up. Bai Xiaomanʼs hand stopped mid-air.

”Ten days,” Xu Yan repeated.

”Ten days,” Cheng Banshan said. ”Donʼt let her force it during that time. If she tries, same result—her grip goes soft and it falls. Falls ugly, and she suffers for nothing.”

Xu Yan nodded.

He didnʼt speak at once. He stood and laid out the days in his mind: today was May 20. The gate sealed on June 5. Fifteen days until the sealing. He set that number down where no one could hear it.

”Ten days. Just right,” he said aloud.

”Just right?” Cheng Banshan snorted. ”Easy for you to say.”

”By monthʼs end sheʼll be able to walk. If she can walk, we can manage.”

”Her injury isnʼt the canʼt-walk kind.” Cheng Banshan said. ”That palm strike was driven into the gap between her ribs. Two fingers to the side and three ribs wouldʼve snapped—snapped inside, where I couldnʼt set them with one hand.”

Xu Yan looked into the stone chamber.

”Bones are fine. She got lucky.”

Shi Po crouched by the door. It was a long moment before he asked, ”Can she be carried?”

”She can be carried. But no need.” Cheng Banshan said. ”She can walk on her own. Let her walk on her own—thatʼs what gets the blood moving.”

Huo Qing stood by the pool. He didnʼt come over, and he didnʼt ask.

Cheng Banshan lifted the medicine pouch to his knee and reached in with one hand, counting from the bottom. Halfway through he grunted, then finished the count: ”Twelve stalks. All here.”

He clamped the pouch between his knees to close it and pulled out a thin cord, one end held in his teeth to cinch it tight. He wrapped the cord twice around and tied it at his waist, patting it. ”Good herbs. For alchemy. Weʼll deal with it when we get back.”

”Deal with it when we get back,” Xu Yan echoed.

”This herb doesnʼt produce many pills per furnace load.” Cheng Banshan finished. ”Few are produced, and they donʼt sell well. Even when sold, people donʼt recognize them.”

Xu Yan didnʼt answer that.

The nightʼs three watches went on as usual. Xu Yan stood before the people at the door and said: ”Tonight: You-Xu, Hai-Zi, Chou-Yin. Same as always. I take Chou-Yin. Sheʼs off the watch rotation these days—nobody wakes her.”

”Iʼll stand watch too,” Bai Xiaoman said.

”You sleep. Tomorrow morning youʼll help her walk.”

Bai Xiaoman opened her mouth again, but Shao Ming pressed a hand to her shoulder.

”Listen to the Sect Master,” Shao Ming said.

The talk dispersed. One by one they entered the stone chamber and settled against the wall. Cheng Banshan leaned his back against the rock, empty sleeve tucked behind him, and went quiet quickly. Bai Xiaoman didnʼt lie down. She knelt at the near end of the flat stone, one hand resting on Jiang Wanʼs wrist, her head drooping lower and lower until it settled.

The Hai-Zi watch went out and sat by the door. The chamber went dark.

At Chou hour, a layer of white mist rose from the surface of the pool.

Xu Yan took over the watch and sat down on that stone. No movement came from the terrace. The pool water moved along the rock edge, its sound very faint. He took the thin ledger from inside his robes and spread it over his knees.

[Debt: One entry borrowed on credit—Jiang Wan.]

Still there. He looked down. The space below was blank. No new words had appeared.

He pressed a finger to that line and held it there a moment before pulling away. The ledger didnʼt explain itself. It only recorded. In the Accounts Room, the rules heʼd learned one by one over the past year: anything borrowed on credit was recorded as a debt. A debt couldnʼt be left to rot on the books—someone always had to settle it. Whichever line the name was written on, that was where it got settled.

This entry bore her name.

And she didnʼt even know where that incense stick had come from.

He went through the entry once more in his mind, like working through the balance of a daily ledger. She was at Mid-Foundation Establishment now. The next step was Late-Foundation. By the bookʼs rules, when a disciple advanced one minor realm, the Sect Master advanced one with them—the credit landed at the moment of her breakthrough. But with this debt weighing on top, that credit wouldnʼt come to him. It would go to settle the account first. Only after it was cleared would the books be clean.

Which meant waiting for her to recover, waiting for her to pick up the sword again and take the next step forward. Once she reached that step, this debt would be repaid.

He sat alone on the stone and worked the accounting through. When he finished, he closed the ledger and held it down with both hands, not immediately putting it away.

Someone shifted inside the stone chamber. He turned his head.

The person on the flat stone was still asleep, face turned inward, one hand hanging over the edge. The sword lay beneath that hand, tip outward, the white scratch from the daytime pointing at the door. Bai Xiaoman was asleep against her arm, her hand still resting on her wrist—grip loose, fingers twitching slightly. Cheng Banshan sat against the wall, head lowered, empty sleeve neatly tucked behind his back. Further in, Shi Poʼs shoulder pressed to the wall; Shao Ming, Huo Qing, Du Xiaochuan, Qian Duoduo, and Qi Qi crowded one against another.

He watched for a while, then drew his eyes back.

He tucked the ledger into his robes, stood, and walked back to sit by the door. That white mist over the pool drifted half a foot toward the chamber, then receded.

Not one person asleep in the chamber woke. He said nothing.