Chương 115: 114. No Strings Attached

Simu Qian continues explaining another example of how he connected two separate documents to solve a dispute. I hear perhaps half of it. My attention remains fixed on the assessment suspended before me. A B-grade dual root would already be enough to justify an offer. Even in a major sect, someone with that aptitude would receive serious consideration. In Coiling Dragon, he would immediately rank among the most naturally gifted people on the mountain. The constitution changes the calculation entirely.

Once he began cultivating, the same mind already capable of reconstructing an erased battle from shipping records and temple accounts would only become sharper. If the Heavenly War Saint Physique truly adapted to whatever challenges defined his life, then combat would eventually become another kind of archive to learn from. The xianxia version of Doomsday.

'Nascent Soul all but guaranteed.' Leaving him behind begins to feel less like restraint and more like negligence. He is twenty-one, mortal, and surrounded by people who have never bothered to look closely at him. His obscurity has protected him so far. It will not protect him forever. A B-grade root can remain hidden if no one tests for it. An S-grade constitution is another matter. Something will eventually disturb it.

Danger, illness, a sect dispute, some careless cultivator throwing his weight around inside the archives. When that happens, someone else may notice.

'Coiling Dragon would treat him better.' We could give him cultivation while preserving his scholarly interests. We need an archivist. We would value the work he already does rather than forcing him to abandon it. Ling'er could design a method suited to his root and constitution. I could ensure no one treated him as a disposable combat asset.

'I cannot leave him here for someone else to claim.'

"If you were offered the opportunity to cultivate," I ask, "would you leave this archive?" Simu Qian stops speaking. His hand remains above the canal register, one finger resting beside a column of shipping tolls. For the first time since he began discussing the records, he looks uncertain.

"Senior means hypothetically?" I nod, and he lowers his hand.

"Would cultivation require me to abandon my work here?"

"A sect would expect most of your time at first," I say.

"Foundational training, physical conditioning, cultivation practice, lessons, and assigned duties. Once you become capable enough, there will likely be missions as well." Simu Qian listens without interrupting.

"You could still work with records," I continue.

"Some sects maintain substantial archives." His gaze moves past me toward the shelves. The archive is quiet around us. A clerk turns pages at the nearest table. Somewhere deeper in the building, a ladder shifts against wood. Dust hangs in the light from the narrow windows.

"I have wondered about cultivation," he says after a while.

"Most people have. The possibility of living longer is difficult to ignore. There are collections beyond Jade Crossing that I could never study in one lifetime. Some records here have not been properly examined in generations. Others are already deteriorating." He looks toward a row of wrapped volumes near the rear wall.

"There are disputes in the southern districts that may take decades to resolve because the older land surveys are incomplete. Even if I remain here for the rest of my life, I will leave most of it unfinished." For the first time, his interest in cultivation sounds more than theoretical. More years would not mean more status to him. They would mean more documents read, more errors corrected, and fewer questions abandoned because his body failed before the work did.

"If cultivation allowed me to continue this," he says, "I would accept without much hesitation."

"But?" He adjusts his glasses, though they have not moved.

"But the path Senior described would take me away from it for many years."

"Likely."

"The head archivist already permits me more freedom than my rank should allow. I am assigned to municipal histories, but he lets me examine tax, military, and temple records when I can explain the connection. Records from restricted disputes are sometimes brought to me now. The magistrate's office has begun accepting my findings in cases where the ordinary clerks cannot reconcile the evidence." There is quiet pride in the words, though he seems almost uncomfortable acknowledging it.

"I would not receive such trust immediately elsewhere. And a sect archive would primarily serve the sect."

"Yes." He looks down at the open canal history.

"I do not object to that. Every archive serves the institution that preserves it. But the work would be different." He pauses again, searching for wording precise enough to satisfy himself.

"I would like more time. There are histories I may never finish reading and questions I may never answer. That is why longevity appeals to me. But if I had to abandon those things in order to obtain it, I am not certain what I would be extending my life for." Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Long life. Strength. Status. Access to places and records currently beyond him. I look around the archive again.

Until now, I had seen shelves, ledgers, and a capable mortal sitting behind a desk. Simu Qian sees his life. I think of the others. Ling'er had gained a family, safety, and the resources needed to survive the talent awakening inside her. Wei Chen, Mei Lin, Jun, and the rest of the original disciples had received instruction from a sect willing to continue investing in them after stronger institutions would have dismissed their potential.

Zhuang Zhou would no longer need to steal for entertainment or necessity while his brother worked himself into the ground repairing the consequences. Bai Yulan had wanted to escape a clan that measured her future through marriage and obedience. Chen Mu and Tang Bo had been born into positions where cultivation might never have been offered regardless of their aptitude. Each of them received something they had lacked before I found them. Even Gao Jin, who had already possessed a stable livelihood, was different.

He managed a general store competently. His parents relied on the business, and he had built a life that was neither miserable nor desperate. But when I presented another possibility, he was willing to test it. Simu Qian's attachment cannot be solved through accommodation. The archive is not a burden keeping him from what he wants. It is what he wants. For the first time, I have found someone to whom Coiling Dragon offers no clear rescue.

We could give him power, longevity, access to cultivation records, and a future most people would regard as immeasurably greater than that of a municipal clerk. That does not mean he would consider it a better life. The assessment still hangs before me. The moment it appeared, I stopped thinking of the young man seated across from me as an archivist who enjoyed his work.

He became a B-grade dual root, an S-grade constitution, a future Nascent Soul, an administrator, a strategist, and an advantage Coiling Dragon could not afford to lose. I had begun converting him into sect resources before he finished his sentence. Larger sects did the same whenever they discovered unusual talent. They call it ' opportunity' because they intended to provide manuals, pills, teachers, and protection afterward.

Those benefits were real, but so was the assumption beneath them: something this valuable could not be permitted to remain outside their control. I consider telling him only part of what I know. A 'strong spirit root' would be enough. I could tell him that he possesses excellent aptitude and that cultivation is not merely a hypothetical possibility. There would be no need to mention the constitution or what the Gaze predicts. Even that would change the archive around him.

Every volume he opened afterward would exist beside the knowledge that he had refused centuries in which to study it. Every unresolved dispute would carry the possibility that cultivation could have given him the time to finish. Remaining here would no longer be an ordinary continuation of the life he chose. It would become a deliberate rejection of power, longevity, and opportunities most cultivators would kill to obtain. He might still remain.

He might also spend the rest of his mortal life wondering whether he had made the wrong choice. Telling him the full truth would be worse. That knowledge would not leave him free merely because I told him he was allowed to refuse. It would sit beside every decision he made from that point onward, turning contentment into a question he had to answer repeatedly. If he left, I could claim he had chosen cultivation. If he stayed, I could claim I had respected his choice.

Either way, I would have placed a weight on one side of the scale and then congratulated myself for not pushing. There is another problem. The Heavenly War Saint Physique adapts toward the challenges that define its bearer's life. If I take Simu Qian from the archive, place him under sect discipline, and make training, missions, and obligation the barriers separating him from the work he values, then Coiling Dragon may become the hardship shaping that adaptation.

Creating a future War Saint whose defining struggle is escaping my sect would be a remarkably stupid use of an S-grade constitution. The thought is selfish, but it removes the last argument that coercion might at least be practical. I dismiss the assessment. Simu Qian remains seated across from me, waiting to see whether I will return to the question. Instead, I gather the nearest records and place them in the order he had arranged.

"You have saved me a considerable amount of time," I say.

"More importantly, you prevented me from drawing several conclusions that would have been wrong." He bows his head.

"This junior only retrieved the relevant documents and explained what they contained."

"The magistrate's office gave me access to the building. You were the one who understood my needs and delivered." His expression suggests he still considers that part of his ordinary duties. Perhaps, for him, it is. I reach into my storage ring and remove a wooden token bearing the Coiling Dragon insignia and my personal mark. Simu Qian looks at it but does not take it.

"Senior, archival assistance does not warrant something like this." His eyes rise toward mine.

"It places no obligation on you," I continue.

"If you encounter trouble beyond what the magistrate's office can resolve, send word to Coiling Dragon Mountain. The same applies if a cultivator pressures you, or if you require medicine, protection, or assistance for someone close to you. Present the token at the gate and they will bring the matter to me." He looks down at the mark again.

"... What would Senior expect in return?"

"Nothing further. The work you performed today is sufficient." He hesitates before accepting it with both hands. Simu Qian wraps it in a square of cloth and stores it inside his robe. I incline my head.

"Until we meet again." He remains bowed until I pass beyond the shelves. I remain in Jade Crossing for the rest of the day. There is no particular urgency to leave, and after spending most of the morning in the archives, returning immediately would make the trip feel unfinished. I pass through several market districts, check two shops selling cultivation supplies, and look over the recruitment notices posted near the central square, but n othing stands out.

T he weapons are either too expensive for their quality or too specialized for disciples who have not yet settled into proper methods. The pill shops carry the usual assortment of low-grade tonics, recovery medicine, and cultivation aids marked up for city buyers. I find several useful household supplies, but nothing that justifies a major purchase. I use the Gaze more often than I intended.

Merchants, apprentices, guards, servants, wandering cultivators, and children moving between stalls all pass through my sight. A few possess spirit roots. Most are weak. Several have enough aptitude to cultivate if given the opportunity, but none approaches the value of the recruits already sent toward Coiling Dragon. There is certainly nothing resembling Simu Qian. By late afternoon, the city has yielded what it is willing to give me. I leave through the western gate and summon Autumn Leaf beyond the walls.

Jade Crossing falls away behind me. Sect banners become flecks of color among buildings governed by the same roads and waterways. The Gaze's verdict remains in my thoughts. Content to remain a scholar if his talent is left undisturbed. That does not mean I was meant to disturb it first. Someone else may eventually test him. A dispute may draw the attention of one of the local sects.

His constitution may awaken under pressure, illness, violence, or some conflict that reaches the archive despite his efforts to avoid it. The magistrate's protection is meaningful, but it is not absolute. When that happens, whoever notices him may not care what he wants. I cannot prevent every future threat by becoming the first one. The token at least gives him another option. It does not bind him to Coiling Dragon, and it does not require him to believe my sect offers a better life than the one he already has.

It only ensures that, if his circumstances change, he knows where help can be found. As Jade Crossing recedes behind me, I remember the story of chasing butterflies. The harder they ran, the more erratically the butterflies fled. Even when one was caught, it rarely resembled the graceful thing they had wanted while it struggled against mesh and hands. Sitting beside flowers did not guarantee that one would land nearby, but…

I can leave Simu Qian where he is and continue building Coiling Dragon into somewhere he might choose if the life he has is ever taken from him.