Compared to the Sect proper, the Southern Quadrant was far less welcoming. Concrete warehouses and workshops boxed in narrow walkways. Some bellowed smoke from their chimneys; others sat silent but hummed with activity. Ji-eun walked close to Master Yan as he led onwards. It did not take long to reach the far wall of the Quadrant where a historic brick and mortar building stood.

  Another wave from Master Yan highlighted several sigils along the walls that burned bright. A door rolled up from the ground like wooden window shutters. The old Master led the way inside.

  Ji-eun had never had the opportunity to enter an alchemists workshop, but it was the only thing this place could be. Qi lights hung in the air illuminating rows of shelves holding esoteric ingredients. Bench tops of neatly arranged tools dotted the circular floorspace centred around a large black steel cauldron.

  “Disciple Ji-eun,” Master Yan called, “would you please?”

  He gestured towards one bench top where several pairs of gloves lay, each distinct.

  “I think I’ll go with the Sea-serpent leather pair today. Third one from the right.”

  “Of course, Master Yan,” she said with a bow.

  The gloves were coarse in texture yet slipped across her grip, and shimmered slightly in the light as if they were damp. Master Yan threw back his sleeves with a motion, exposing the stumps of both wrists. Ji-eun placed a glove cuff on one arm and secured it with a thin strap. Suddenly, the glove came alive. Each finger began moving as though filled with a finger. They flexed and stretched, startling Ji-eun who flinched back. Master Yan smiled slightly.

  “It shocks everyone the first time they see it,” he said.

  “No, Master Yan. I had heard it mentioned by the other Disciples. I’m sorry for the scene.”

  “Hmph. No matter,” he picked up the other glove and affixed it himself. Likewise, it sprung to life, flexing and feeling at the air. “This is a Qi technique. I fill the gloves with my Qi and manipulate it as if it were a natural extension of my body. The gloves — an artefact woven with spiritual materials — gives the energy form and allows a far easier shape. Without them, I am left far less dextrous in my actions.”

  “Thank you for educating me, Master.”

  “I find it’s important to get this out of the way early, lest you get distracted later and begin asking questions during our work. So, any questions, Disciple Ji-eun?”

  She thought for a moment.

  “How am I to assist you today?”

  “A good attitude to have. This way.”

  Master Yan led Ji-eun to a bench in the corner. He picked up one of several brushes on the table and thumbed the bristles.

  “Today you and I will be making talismans,” he began. “Talismans are a form of sorcery: specifically, an array-type scribed input cast. They are often single use. Charge the medium with Qi and an effect with trigger.”

  Master Yan pointed with the brush to a shelf. Along it, a series of ink bottles sat. Some were mundane, while others were filled with coloured ink, or shone with inner light, or swirled as if alive.

  “I will be blunt: at its most basic, talisman crafting is just painting, or calligraphy, if you are so inclined. I will not have you use any true spiritual ink or reagents today. Such ingredients will be unnecessary for the basic talismans you will be drawing.”

  The Master moved along. With a rustle, a wall scroll unfurled itself. Along it was an intricate design of imperial characters and geometric patterns.

  “You will replicate this pattern in bulk. Can you do it?” Master Yan asked as he turned to face her.

  “Of course, Master Yan.”

  Ji-eun sat at the bench, brush in one hand. She stared intently at the hanging scroll, going over every twist and turn to the pattern. Her imperial wasn’t the best, but the characters for “sun” and “bloom” were easy enough to read. Did this talisman help something grow, she wondered?

  She dipped her brush into the ink and begun tracing the pattern with soft strokes. It was a very nice brush. The grip fell smoothly into her hand, and the bristles glided easily. It had been a while since Ji-eun last held a brush, but the movements came easy to her.

  With light strokes she marked out the pattern across a rectangular strip of paper. It was coarse and smelt woody. As the outline came together, she brushed in larger strokes before carefully placing the small, detailed strokes between it all. A final brush stroke placed down the finishing touches to a character hidden within the talisman’s pattern. One down. A whole stack of paper to go.

  —

  After hours of repeating the same design over and over, Ji-eun had noticed the flaws in her original recreations. Minor flicks of the wrist she missed, a deliberate angling to a component and its strokes. All slight, but she didn’t know how it would affect the final result.

  She knew very little about talismans. Only that they existed, and that they were “an array-type scribed input cast,” whatever that meant. With a stroke of her brush, she placed the last bit of ink down on her stack of talisman papers. Somehow her inkwell had never run out. Ji-eun scrutinised her latest work and compared it to the wall scroll. Still not a complete recreation, but far more accurate than her first.

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  For the first time in a long while, Ji-eun found herself having fun. Talismans were an interesting craft, she decided.

  “Well done.”

  Ji-eun jumped at the voice behind her. Master Yan stood over her, having approached silently from his workbench.

  “I expected good things from you, Disciple Ji-eun, but I must admit you have exceeded them,” the Master said as a talisman floated on an invisible current to his eye level. “There are still some inconsistencies to work out, but for a basic talisman, it is impressive. And crafted by a mortal no less.”

  The backhanded praise brought a taut smile to Ji-eun’s face. She bowed and thanked him for his kind words.

  Master Yan looked between the talisman and her hands.

  “You have some experience with arts, I take it? Painting perhaps?”

  “Yes, Master Yan. I often spent my time painting landscapes and animals — before I joined the Sect.”

  Painting was one of her favourite pastimes back North. She always thought it was a shame how expensive ink was. Now, she barely had the time to lament how little time she had.

  Master Yan sighed.

  “A pity the Elders did not consider this when they placed you within the Sect. I could have been cultivating you all this time, instead of letting you fester with the brutes.”

  Ji-eun didn’t know what to make of that. No, she knew she didn’t like it.

  Master Yan began walking towards the large cauldron that dominated the centre of the workshop and beckoned for Ji-eun to follow. With a flick of a gloved ‘hand’, several ingredients came flying off the shelves and came to rest on the benches circling the cauldron, or were otherwise unceremoniously tossed into it. A liquid that wasn’t quite water filled the basin like a silent rising tide.

  “How much do you know of your placement within the Sect?”

  “… I was told that for my bravery in facing the Enemy, I was rewarded a place within the Sworn Sword Sect who found me that day. That it was the Emperor’s will,” Ji-eun answered honestly.

  “A bit sparse on details. It would be more accurate to say that your enlistment in our Sect was our reward, not yours, no matter how the publicists spun it. Regardless, Disciple Ji-eun, you were sent to us with the full intent to be made into a cultivator. A warrior for the Emperor; His blade against the Great Enemy. Tell me, how do you think that has gone so far?”

  Ji-eun shrunk and crossed her arms, hands hidden within her sleeves.

  “I apologise, Master Yan.”

  The Master sighed. Herbs and powders fell into the cauldron on their own. Dark fumes climbed past the rim.

  “The blame cannot be placed entirely on you. From the way you carry yourself, it is clear you have maintained your training diligently this past year. Furthermore, you have had access to all the same resources as any other Outer Disciple. Manuals, elixirs, instructors. Everything needed to refine your body.”

  The cauldron took on a faint silver light, and the liquid within begun to bubble and glow.

  “But there is one thing others have that you do not: time. In truth, for any other Disciple we accept, a full year of stagnation at your level would be worse than disappointing. But any other Disciple would have undergone years of training before even thinking of climbing our mountain and approaching the Gate.”

  The glowing grew stronger and audibly hissed. More ingredients threw themselves within. The mixture cycled dark red, then orange, and finally a faint blue. Black spots floated to the top and popped violently. Ji-eun had never encountered a worse smell.

  “Many Elders are content to let you continue to rot within the lower ranks of the Sect. You are but mortal after all; you were not born on Heaven’s Path. But some, such as my superior, see the greater game at play.”

  The liquid, now a viscous powder blue, begun to shrink violently inward. What Ji-eun assumed to be metal detailing along the cauldrons bottom half revealed itself to be machinery. It began to hiss and move.

  “You were gifted to us by the Emperor himself. It has been a thousand years since any such event has occurred. It would be a stain upon our honour to fail in elevating you beyond your… savage origins. The North is no place for a true cultivator to rise, but here in the central lands, you may yet find your way.”

  Ji-eun controlled her expression and faced away.

  The liquid was drained into the base of the cauldron. It glowed brighter for a short moment, blue flames licking its base. The silver light subsided and the flames flickered out. With a hiss and a puff of steam, four trays jutted out from the cauldron’s base. Each held eight large powder blue marbles. Master Yan bent down and picked one up.

  “This is a qi refining pill. For an Outer Disciple, it is a valuable treasure. Typically it is given as a reward for honourable deeds. You will be given these thirty-two as an investment of sorts.”

  As one the pills floated around Master Yan and deposited themselves within an opaque jar.

  “In two months,” he began, “the Emperor’s Envoy will arrive for an inspection of the Sect. It would be most pleasing, I’m sure, if the Elders had a new Disciple to showcase.”

  Ji-eun bowed deeply.

  “Of course, Master Yan. I will not fail to make good on your show of faith,” she said hurriedly.

  “It is not my show of faith, Disciple Ji-eun, but the Elders’. And I will personally make sure you do not — cannot — fail in this.”

  Master Yan turned to the cauldron and ran a hand across the rim.

  “Two months is not a long time, Disciple. But we work with what we have. Those pills are our start. Take one a day for the next month. Only one. Hmm. Your body is well refined, and you likely have the basic sword art of the Sect at least memorised. You should have no issues forming a solid foundation. Therefore, you will train with me within this workshop. Do not bother joining the other Outer Disciples during practice hours. I will have your undivided attention. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Master Yan. Thank you for your consideration — for the Elder’s consideration.”

  Ji-eun was sent away with a wave. She would meet Master Yan tomorrow outside the gate. She had a new goal, and a new path to power. In her arms she cradled an opaque glass jar, sealed tight.

  —

  Master Yan stood silently within his workshop. His gloved constructs ached after hours of use. He let the qi disperse, and the gloves fell unceremoniously to the ground.

  Disciple Ji-eun was an interesting one to him. A mortal from the Savage North, bestowed upon the Sect after surviving a Demonic attack. The first of its kind in over four hundred years; the first mortal to do so in over a thousand. He fell to a chair as he summoned it from the other side of the room.

  Was it divine providence that had spared her, or a heavenly talent? Perhaps it was just sheer dumb luck. Whatever the case, her progress thus far had been underwhelming at best. Though perhaps for a mortal she was doing well. He did not know; the lower realms were of no interest to him.

  He hoped the Sky Blue Soul Refining Pills he had given her would not go to waste; they were treasures of the Sect. But it was as the Elders willed. Master Yan thought back on the Disciple. A refined body. Clean qi channels. And yet, despite being in such a Qi rich environment, not even a hint of cultivation within her. How someone could go so long without progress was a mystery. One he had just two months to solve.

  The Master sighed. How he hated getting involved in Sect politics. It was the entire reason he declined a promotion to the Inner Sect further up the mountain. But these past hundred years had shown him that he could not avoid it, merely decide whether he was the playmaker or the piece.

  Perhaps in two months he would take that promotion after all.