Chapter 9: Silent Seals and Iron Lines
Clink… The tavern lights swayed slightly as the cold wind brushed through the open window. Inside, smoke from cheap spirit wine hung thick in the air. A few drunk cultivators snored in the corner, hmmph, cups tipped over, spilling the last drops onto the wooden floor.
At a dark table near the wall, two men sat quietly. One wore a straw hat low over his face, Elder Han Zhen. The other, dressed in an alchemist's robe stained with herbs and powder, was Elder Xuan Yi.
The table between them was full of empty plates and a large jug of wine. Glug, glug.
Elder Xuan Yi leaned back and squinted at Han Zhen through the drifting smoke. "You didn't give them the pills," he said, his tone lazy but sharp underneath.
Han Zhen stayed quiet for a long moment. Tap… tap… His finger hit the cup's edge again and again. Then he sighed. Haaa. "They have the pills," he said softly, voice like sandpaper.
Xuan Yi frowned. "You sealed them, didn't you?"
Han Zhen nodded. His straw hat tilted slightly forward. "When they were unconscious," he said. "I used my spirit array. Each pill is sealed inside them. When the right time comes, I'll release it."
Crackle. The candle flame flickered at those words.
Xuan Yi's lips curved into a slow grin. "Hmm. You're a cautious one, old man."
Han Zhen gave a faint laugh, more like a grunt. "Caution keeps us alive. If one of them dies before the test, that seal will return the essence to my ring. No loss."
Xuan Yi lifted his jug and took a long gulp. Gulp gulp. Wine dripped down his chin. He wiped it off with the back of his hand. "Then all that's left," he said, voice thick from drink, "is to wait for the Shattered Star Competition to begin."
The tavern went quiet for a heartbeat. Outside, the sound of carts and horses echoed faintly.
Han Zhen looked at the window, his eyes unreadable. Hmm. "Wait," he repeated. "But not too long."
Xuan Yi chuckled, then coughed hard. Khhhhh! "Ahh, this wine's trash," he muttered.
Han Zhen didn't reply. His fingers tapped the rim of his cup again. Tok, tok, tok. The sound blended with the quiet tavern hum until it felt like a countdown.
---
The next morning came fast.
The sun stretched lazily across the city's rooftops, painting the market roads in pale gold. The smell of roasted meat and fried dough filled the air. Vendors shouted, "Hot buns! Fresh fish! Spirit peaches!"
Inside a small food stall, Yin Zhe sat hunched over a bowl of steaming ramen. Slurp… slurp… He ate fast, his chopsticks clacking like drumsticks.
"Ahhh," he sighed, leaning back. The broth burned his tongue but felt perfect.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his small crystal orb. Blink. The orb glowed, showing his current funds. His smile dropped.
Half gone.
His eye twitched. "I used half already? Hmph."
Before he could complain more, a faint ding rang in his head. A blue notification slid across his vision.
> [Watched RP +1]
His chopsticks froze midair. Clack. A noodle dropped back into the soup.
He turned slowly, scanning the stall. Steam hissed from pots. A boy served dumplings. Two merchants whispered near the window. No one looked his way.
Still… that message wasn't random.
Yin Zhe rubbed his neck and whispered, "So, someone's watching me."
He remembered Elder Zhen, the strange calm, the unreadable face, the little grin when handing out the bottles. It made sense now. "He sealed something into us…" he muttered.
Hmmm. His mind raced. The system only showed Watched RP +1 when spirit detection energy brushed against him. Without the system's alert, he'd be like a fat goose, calm, clueless, ready for the slaughter.
He chuckled bitterly. Heh. "Thanks, system. At least I'll die knowing who's peeking."
The stall owner glanced over, startled. Yin Zhe waved it off and downed the rest of his soup. Slurp, gulp. He set the bowl down, wiped his mouth, and stood up. "Time to move."
Outside, the streets were packed. Banners of the Iron Vein Spirit Palace hung everywhere, fluttering in the wind. The red-and-black sigil gleamed under sunlight, a sword crossing a mountain vein.
Crowds flooded toward a massive gate ahead. Shouts, footsteps, laughter, all blending into one wild noise. Thud, chatter, thud.
Today was the Outer Yard Registration. Everyone wanted to join.
Yin Zhe adjusted his robe and joined the crowd. His boots hit the stone road rhythmically. Tap tap tap.
The line stretched long, hundreds of people forming cues under different pavilions. Each setup had attendants wearing the palace's black uniform. Some held jade tablets; others carried scrolls glowing faintly.
Yin Zhe's eyes darted everywhere. "Bao Zi, Ren Tie…" he murmured. But he couldn't see them.
He frowned and rubbed his chin. Hmmph. "Where the hell are they?"
The air buzzed with noise, people shouting, arguing, trying to cut lines. A fat man tripped and fell face-first into the dirt. Thud! His friends laughed, then helped him up. Someone nearby yelled, "Move faster, I've been here since dawn!"
Yin Zhe sighed. Haa. He hated noise, but it was better than silence. At least chaos meant life.
Then something caught his eye.
Far to the right, one of the attendants sat with his arms crossed and his sword laid across his lap. His cue was empty. No one stood before him.
The man was calm, too calm. His sword reflected sunlight like a silver laugh. The nameplate beside him read: Elder Chen Niao.
Yin Zhe's brow lifted. "Weird. Why's his spot empty?"
He nudged the man standing in front of him in the next line. "Hey, that old guy there. What's his deal?"
The man turned slightly, annoyed. "Him? That's Elder Chen Niao, the Iron Vein Palace's sword maniac."
Yin Zhe blinked. "Sword maniac?"
The man smirked. "Yeah. He's one of the thirteen great sword wielders. Holds the Fourth Sword, Laughing Steel."
Clang. Somewhere nearby, two blades clashed during a spar. The name sounded heavy in the air, like a bell ringing through history.
Yin Zhe whistled softly. Hmmm. "If he's that great, shouldn't his line be crowded?"
The man laughed. "You'd think so. But no one wants to stand there."
"Why?" Yin Zhe asked.
"Because," the man said, lowering his voice, "he's obsessed. Every candidate that goes to him ends up getting a half-hour lecture about the 'path of the sword.' He won't even test you until he's done talking."
Yin Zhe's mouth twitched. Hmph. "So he likes hearing himself talk."
"Exactly." The man shrugged. "Even the elders avoid him unless they want to fall asleep."
Yin Zhe stared at Chen Niao again. The elder sat motionless, the wind tugging his long sleeves. The sword across his lap hummed faintly, like it had its own heartbeat.
Something about him felt… steady. A little scary. But not in the bad way.
He turned back to the man beside him and said, "By the way, I'm Yin Zhe."
The boy opened his mouth to reply