Chương 110: Chapter 109: Wan Yi

Yang made his way to the area where his fellow outer sect disciples were known to beg rides off inner sect seniors. He had walked past it once before on the way to the boat with Senior Brother Zhang Linghe's group. Today he saw it properly. A stretch of open ground near the peak's edge where a handful of outer sect disciples stood with their necks craned upward like ostrichs, watching the cultivators passing overhead on flying swords and waving their arms to catch attention.

As Yang watched, two inner sect disciples, a man and a woman on separate swords, slowed and descended briefly to exchange a few words with two of the waiting disciples before all four of them rose together and disappeared over the edge of the peak. Yang stood and watched this happen and felt secondhand embarrassment so deep it was almost physical.

He thought about Ye Xuan doing this routinely, and wondered how could he bear to do this so often but on second thought he probably enjoyed it, and concluded that Ye Xuan was a special kind of person. He looked at the remaining outer sect disciple standing at the edge, arm half raised toward the sky, and took a step forward. He stopped. He stood there running through the need for a new tea set for far longer than warranted. He had one cup already.

Senior Brother Lin Yi would probably not point out a lack of a second cup. And as for snacks, nothing specific had been promised, it was Senior Sister Wei Wei's idea after all. Senior Brother Lin Yi seemed like a reasonable person who would not expect elaborate hospitality from a poor outer sect disciple who had only been at the sect for a few months. He had almost talked himself out of the entire trip when someone appeared in front of him. An inner sect disciple. Tall and lithe with a rather elgant bearing.

"Junior brother." The voice was pleasant, almost musical.

"Lost in your thoughts?" Yang bowed quickly.

"Apologies, Senior Brother. I was distracted. May I help you?" The senior let out a short beautiful laugh.

"I rather think it is how I may help you." Yang looked at him.

"I have been watching you stand here for some time," the inner sect disciple said, with an amused expression.

"Watching the junior brothers and sisters get their rides, watching your face go through what I counted as approximately a dozen different expressions of embarrassment as you debated with yourself. I found it quite enjoyable." Yang felt the heat come up in his face and had no response to offer.

"I am Wan Yi. Inner sect disciple." Senior Brother Wan Yi looked at him with a smile.

"You needed a ride down to the city but found yourself too afflicted with pride to ask for one. So I decided to come and offer, since it looked increasingly likely that you were going to forgo the trip entirely rather than wave your arm at a passing senior."

"I was," Yang admitted.

"Thank you, Senior Brother. It is my first time trying to arrange transport to the city. I am Chen Yang."

"No thanks needed. The entertainment you provided was payment enough." Senior Brother Wan Yi turned toward the edge.

"Come." Yang followed him. As they neared the edge he became aware of something hovering there that was not a sword. It was a stringed instrument. Wide, flat, pale wood with dozens of strings running across it, suspended in the air.

"First time seeing a flying tool that is not a sword?" Senior Brother Wan Yi asked, reading his expression without effort.

"I have ridden on flying boats and swords before," Yang said honestly, "but never on a musical instrument." Senior Brother Wan Yi's expression shifted to pride.

"It is not only a flying tool. I can play music on it as well. It is a fully functional zither." Yang made an admiring sound that was part genuine and part a response to show the senior appreciation fo giving him a ride. Senior Brother Wan Yi guided him to stand on the instrument's body before stepping on himself, and it rose smoothly and turned toward the city below. The descent was unhurried and smooth, the view opening gradually as the mountain fell away behind them.

"It is a beautiful zither," Yang said, because it was and because it was clear the senior valued both the compliment and the instrument enough to deserve the observation. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Thank you." Senior Brother Wan Yi sounded genuinely pleased.

"I am in the city today to collect materials, actually. I had a merchant source some special wood for me. I plan to craft a guqin with my own hands."

"That sounds like a demanding project. Is music and making instruments a hobby of yours?" Senior Brother Wan Yi gave him an amused look.

"A hobby? Junior brother, I am a music cultivator. Music is everything."

"I apologise," Yang said.

"I joined the sect recently. I wasn't aware of music cultivation." This was not entirely true. He had read a general description of them in the library, listed among many other types of specialised cultivators.

"No offence taken." Senior Brother Wan Yi said.

"Its not surprising for a new cultivator to not be aware of us, music cultivators are a rare and much admired type. We are difficult to fight against. To defeat a music cultivator effectively an opponent must seal off their own hearing, and even that is no guarantee, since a sufficiently advanced music technique can affect cultivators without requiring them to perceive the sound consciously." Yang thought of several approaches to dealing with this that he kept to himself.

Destroying the instrument being the most immediate and obvious one.

"That is remarkable," he said, mostly because he didn't know how else to reply.. The city was coming into view below them, the white stone of the buildings catching the morning light, the hilly terrain giving the streets their characteristic style. As they neared the ground Senior Brother Wan Yi said, "Junior brother, I do not know how long my business will take, but I will look for you on my way back near the base of the outer peak. If not, make sure you are back here before sunset.

The inner sect sends disciples to patrol the base of the peak in the evenings to carry lingering outer sect disciples back up. And it is usually easier to find a ride going up than down. You may not even have to wait that long as often inner sect disciples going back to the mountain will take a look here and give a ride to any lingering disciples in need."

"Thank you, Senior Brother. I appreciate the ride."

"Farewell, Junior Brother Yang." As he made his way deeper into the city. Yang stood for a moment in the street and watched him go. Senior Brother Wan Yi was undeniably proud. But he had stopped when he did not need to stop and offered help when he did not need to offer it. Yang didn't want to waste too much time here so he asked the nearest vendor where he could find a tea set. The vendor directed him to a stretch of shops a few streets over. He found a porcelain ware shop first and went in.

An employee appeared immediately, her manner shifting noticeably when she registered the colour of his robes.

"My Lord, how may I help you?"

"I am looking for a simple tea set," Yang said. She led him to a counter and began setting out options. Each one she placed before him was more elaborately decorated than the last, pale blue glazes and gold leaf edging and painted scenes of mountains.

"Please stop," Yang said.

"I do not want to waste your time. I just need the simplest one you have." She finally brought out a plain white porcelain set. Clean lines, no decoration, made to be used rather than displayed. He paid for it with a spirit stone and received a handful of gold and silver coins in return as change, which he pocketed. She wrapped the set in several layers of paper and boxed it carefully. It was unwieldy to carry but not heavy. He made his way a few shops down toward where he had been told snacks were sold.

He saw the line from half a street away. It stretched out the front of the shop and around the corner and contained what looked like a mix of ordinary city residents and a few cultivators, all of them waiting without apparent frustration, which suggested the wait was considered worth it. Yang looked at the line and turned to leave.

"My Lord, my Lord Cultivator, please come inside." A shop employee had appeared at the door, waving toward him.

"You do not need to queue here." Yang stopped.

"I cannot enter ahead of all these people. I will come another time."

"Please, my Lord." The employee took a step toward him.

"Peop…."

"Why does he get to go in?" The voice came from somewhere in the middle of the queue. A middle-aged cultivator with a dissatisfied expression.

"I am also a cultivator." The employee turned to him with practised patience.

"Because this is White Cloud City. Disciples of the White Cloud Sect are always welcome to enter without queuing. It is our policy." The middle-aged cultivator looked at Yang with an expression of deep dissatisfaction and said nothing further. Yang looked at the queue. Most of the people in it, ordinary city residents and the other cultivators alike, were looking at him with expressions ranging from mild curiosity to active encouragement. A woman near the front gave him a small nod as though to say go ahead.

An older man behind her was already turned back toward the shop window, unconcerned. He went in. The interior was cooler than the street and considerably more impressive than the plain frontage suggested. Glass cases lined every wall and the counters down the centre, filled with confections arranged with more care than some talisman inscriptions Yang had seen. Layered pastries dusted with powdered sugar. Roasted nuts packed into paper bags.

Dried fruits pressed into neat blocks beside small individually wrapped cakes. The cases were lit from beneath and everything inside them looked exactly like something out if a magazine. Yang approached the nearest counter.

"I am expecting an important guest in three days," he said to the employee.

"I want things that will stay fresh for that long and that go well with tea. Mostly dry goods." The employee guided him through several options, pointing out nut mixes, certain baked goods that were dry enough to keep well, small cakes wrapped in waxy paper designed for longer storage. Yang made his selections, the choices adding up to a final bill in silver coins that made clear exactly why the line outside was as long as it was. He took the package and made his way back out to the street.

There was a commotion near the shop entrance. The same middle-aged cultivator from the queue was now standing with his voice raised, directing his displeasure at the employee who had invited Yang inside. A small crowd had formed, mostly curious rather than hostile. The employee was holding his ground with the confidence of someone who had been in this situation before and was not particularly alarmed by it despite being a mortal.

Yang stopped, shifted the box under his arm, and felt the fireball talisman he kept in his right sleeve move between his fingers. A defensive talisman followed in the left. He looked at the scene, assessed it, and was about to intervene.

"What is going on here?"