Sitting high atop the observation platform, Hanyuan allowed his consciousness to drift like a net over the terraced fields. The air shimmered with the faint, green luminescence of the spirit herbs, but beneath that calm was a web of varying Qi signatures.
He measured the Work Disciples with a critical eye. Most were at the 4th or 5th Layer of Qi Refining, stuck there for decades due to mediocre talent and a lack of resources. A few older men even possessed the density of the 7th Layer, but Hanyuan's lips curled in a slight, silent smile. Even with a higher rank, their Qi was stagnant and turbid,nothing like the crystalline, tempered energy of a True Disciple. Without a Spirit Grade Art to channel that energy, a 7th Layer Work Disciple was merely a bigger fish in the pond.
Hanyuan's eyes remained closed, but his sense of touch,sharpened by his footwork training,felt the vibration of the earth below.
Movement. Sudden. secretly.
On the far edge of the Green Spirit Field, near a patch of valuable Serrated Moon Grass, a middle aged man with greasy, shoulder length hair and a thin mustache thought he was hidden by the tall stalks. His hands moved like a thief's, quickly plucking three of the silver rimmed herbs and tucking them into the folds of his coarse hemp robe.
Hanyuan opened his eyes.
He used the Azure Cloud Footwork, stepping off the platform as if descending an invisible staircase. He glided across the field, his boots never once bruising a single spirit herb. The thief didn't hear him until a shadow fell over his hands.
"What is your name?" Hanyuan asked quietly.
The man jumped, his face contorting into a mask of defiant arrogance when he saw it was only a twelve year-old watching him. He stood up, towering over Hanyuan, and spat on the ground. "Han Tie, you little brat. Why? Are you going to tell the Deacon that I'm taking my due? Look at you, wearing silk and holding a blue toothpick. Why don't you run back to your stone hut before you get hurt?"
CRACK.
Hanyuan's fist moved faster than Han Tie's eyes could follow.
It wasn't a technique; it was raw, physical power.The Sound of the bone dislocating echoed across the quiet field like a snapping branch.
Han Tie was lifted off his feet, his body spinning in the air before he slammed into the dirt. The three stolen herbs flew out of his robe, landing neatly at Hanyuan's feet.
"You're only at the 5th Layer," Hanyuan muttered, looking down at the man who was now clutching his ruined face and groaning in agony. "And you have the guts to be this arrogant?"
Hanyuan chuckled, a sound devoid of any humor. "In this world, you can be a thief, and you can be a fool. But don't try to be both in front of me."
Hanyuan picked up the Moon Grass, cleaning the dirt from their stems with a flick of his wrist. He didn't even glance at the surrounding workers, who had gone deathly silent.
A 6th Layer Work Disciple nearby, who had been considering slacking off during his shift, felt a cold shiver crawl up his spine. He looked at Hanyuan,a child who had just shattered a man's jaw with a casual, non-Qi infused punch,and felt a terrifying pressure.
"What strength..." the man whispered, his head bowing low. "He didn't even use his spear. That's a true disciple for you."
Hanyuan returned to his platform and sat back down, instantly returning to his meditative state as if the confrontation had never happened. Below, the Work Disciples ignored the whimpering Han Tie as if he were invisible, their hoes moving twice as fast as before.
As the sun began to dip behind the mountain peaks and the moon's silver light touched the Green Spirit Field, the workers hurried back to their huts. They fled the area, eager to be away from the gaze of the young Overseer.
Left alone in the moon washed fields, Hanyuan stood up and drew the Cold Cloud Spear. The night air was crisp, the herbs emitting a faint, refreshing scent.
"Start from the basics," Hanyuan told the silence.
The rhythmic thwack-thwack of the spear began once more.
The tenth day of Hanyuan's Mission brought a change in the wind. The morning air, usually stagnant and heavy with the scent of damp earth, was suddenly filled with a crisp, fiery aroma.
Hanyuan was deep in a breathing cycle, his senses expanded to cover every blade of grass in the medical field, when a loud, booming laugh shattered the silence of the valley.
"Hahaha! The scent of a thousand spirits! There is nothing like the smell of herbs in the morning to remind a man he's still alive!"
Hanyuan opened his eyes and looked down. Strolling through the rows of serrated moon grass was a short, wild haired figure dressed in soot stained robes that seemed to pulse with a faint, crimson heat. Elder Huo looked different than he had a week ago; the manic edge in his eyes had been replaced by a deep, radiant glow, and his aura was no longer a turbulent storm, but a steady, roaring sun.
Hanyuan stood up on his platform. Before he could even step down, the space in front of him rippled.
Swish!
With a single step that seemed to ignore the laws of distance, Elder Huo appeared on the wooden observation deck, standing only inches away from Hanyuan.
"This junior, Bai Hanyuan, greets Elder Huo," Hanyuan said, bowing deeply. "Seeing Elder's radiant spirit, I presume the breakthrough was successful?"
Elder Huo laughed again, slapping his thigh with a hand that smelled of cinnamon and sulfur. "Successful? It was glorious, brat! These old bones of mine managed to claw their way further up the mountain. I feel like I could refine a Tier 4 pill with my bare hands! I originally came down here to hand pick some ingredients for a new batch, but what a surprise that you brat is the one guarding my garden!"
"Since you're here and I'm in a good mood, how about it? Come back to the forge with me. I have a batch of Dragon-Marrow Pills that need a steady chill to set the core."
Hanyuan let out a regretful sigh, looking over the vast green fields. "I would be honored to assist you, Elder, but I have a duty here for four more days. A mission taken must be a mission completed. If you need immediate help, perhaps the Deacon could.."
Huo waved his gnarled, blackened hand dismissively. "Forget the Deacon and his bunch of clumsy dregs! He sent a disciple to help yesterday, and the fool nearly cracked the cauldron's inner lining because he was too busy trembling in fear. I'll wait four days. I'd rather let the fire idle than have another explosion."
The old alchemist turned back toward the fields, humming a jaunty, off key tune as he began to delicately pluck the heart leaves of several rare spirit plants. Hanyuan watched him move; despite his eccentric attitude, Huo's movements were precise, never harming a single root as he harvested.
He truly loves the alchemy and the herbs, Hanyuan thought, sitting back down into his cross legged stance.
The silence returned to the valley, but Hanyuan felt different. These ten days had been more productive than he had expected. By maintaining his senses across the field while cultivating, he was training his Senses.
At night, under the pale moonlight, he had read the scrolls gifted by Qin Rong. He wasn't learning new moves; he was learning the art of the spear. He saw how the 'Viper Style' used misdirection, and how the 'Iron Mountain Style' focused on the unshakeable weight of the shaft. Each bit of knowledge was like a new ingredient being added to his own Silver Frost Spear Art, making his frost Qi denser and his strikes more versatile.
"I still have some spirit stones left," Hanyuan mused, touching the heavy pouch at his waist. "Qin Rong's scrolls are good foundations, but if I want to truly master the logic of the weapon, I should head back to the Scripture Pavilion after this. I need a few more pieces to complete the puzzle of my own style."