"A capacitor," Chen Wei said, holding the cool, white jade of the Mind-Calming Disc. "In electrical engineering, it stores potential energy in an electric field. Here... we need a device that can draw the stable Yin energy from the obsidian 'batteries' and hold it in a ready state, so I'm not the one taking the full strain."
Xiao Tong nodded, already pulling out scrolls of aged rice paper and a brush. "And it needs to be insulated. If the energy leaks before you modulate it, it could disrupt every charm in this room. We're building a magical bomb component, Chen Wei. We need to treat it with that level of respect."
The next few hours were a masterclass in hybrid engineering, a fusion of ancient art and modern theory. The design process was a conversation between two worlds.
"This stabilizing rune here," Chen Wei would say, pointing to Xiao Tong's sketch. "Its energy flow is constant. What if we modify it to be more like a 'pulse-width modulation'? We don't need it to be stable all the time, just when I'm actively drawing from it. We could make it more efficient."
"Pulse-width... what?" Xiao Tong would ask, baffled. "Qi doesn't work like that. It's a constant flow."
"Mine does," Chen Wei would insist. "It operates on a frequency. I can control the 'duty cycle.' We can save power."
Xiao Tong would look at him, her mind struggling to reconcile millennia of Daoist teachings with his bizarre, digital-age terminology. He spoke of ancient energies as if he were debugging code. It was blasphemous, but she couldn't deny the underlying logic. He saw patterns she, with all her training, had been taught to ignore.
They settled on a final design. The 'capacitor' would be a small, flat box carved from peach wood. Inside, one of the charged obsidian spheres would sit. Xiao Tong would inscribe the interior with pacifying runes. The exterior would be Chen Wei's domain. He would have to etch a "circuit" of his own design onto the lid.
The work was painstaking. But when it was Chen Wei's turn, a new problem emerged. As he picked up a silver-tipped carving tool, a wave of dizziness washed over him.
The low buzz of the refrigerator in the corner became a roar in his ears. He could see the wi-fi signal from the router not as a gentle web, but as a violent, strobing blizzard of data packets. His senses, which he had begun to control, were now flaring up, raw and overwhelming.
"Whoa," he breathed, stumbling back and pressing a hand to his temple. "Everything is... loud."
Xiao Tong was at his side in an instant, her expression sharp with concern. "What do you mean, 'loud'?"
"The energy. It's all dialed up to eleven. I can't... I can't focus. It's just noise," he stammered, squeezing his eyes shut. Even in the darkness, he could see the after-images of power lines burned onto his retinas.
"It's a side effect," she said, her voice tight with a dawning, fearful understanding. "It's like you've been listening to quiet music your whole life, and someone just threw you into the front row of a rock concert. Your 'spiritual ears' are ringing. You're experiencing sensory overload. We pushed you too far, too fast."
She guided him to the meditation cushion. "Breathe, Chen Wei. Forget the outside world. Focus only on the Mind-Calming Disc. Let its stillness be your anchor."
He held the jade disc, its cool, quiet energy a lifeline in the raging storm of his senses. He focused on it, pouring all his concentration into that single point of silence. Slowly, the roar of the city's qi began to recede, subsiding back into a manageable hum. The process left him pale and shaken.
"This is the price," Xiao Tong said softly, her earlier excitement gone, replaced by a deep solemnity. "Every miracle has a cost. Your ability is a miracle of the modern age, but it's burning you out. We have to teach you how to build shields. How to turn the volume down."
But they didn't have time for a full lesson. They had a deadline.
"I can do it," Chen Wei insisted, his voice raspy but firm. "I just need... to be careful."
He returned to the workbench, the jade disc held firmly in his other hand. The work was slow. He had to constantly fight back the tide of sensory data. He didn't carve symbols. He carved a pattern that looked like a modern printed circuit board, a series of precise, interconnected lines that would guide the energy according to his will.
As he carved the final line, a faint, blue light traced the path he had cut. The device was complete. He placed the charged obsidian sphere inside and closed the lid. There was a soft click as the energies aligned. The box now felt like a coiled spring, holding a quiet but immense power in reserve.
He looked up at Xiao Tong, a triumphant but exhausted smile on his face. "Capacitor's ready."
He didn't see the way she was looking at him—with a mixture of pride, admiration, and a profound, chilling fear. She had helped him build a new kind of weapon. But she was also witnessing the toll it was taking on him.
Just as the thought crossed her mind, a sharp, insistent knock echoed from the front door of the shop.
It wasn't the knock of a customer. It was three sharp raps, precise and authoritative.
They both froze. The residual energy from their work still hung heavy in the air, a beacon in the supernatural world.
The knock came again, louder this time.
Xiao Tong's face went pale.
"The Sect," she whispered, her eyes wide with dread. "They know."