Blueprint for Immortality: a Crafting Xianxia

Booker stripped away his disguise and tucked the bundle under his robes, moving swiftly through the Sect but keep his pace short of a run, not wanting to give any indication he was worth remembering. His head bent low, the sight of another cripple was nothing to remark upon or take note of.

He made his way back to his room and tucked the disguise, his pills, everything worth hiding into the cubby beneath his floorboards. The crawlspace beneath was…

“Hmmm.”

He was on his last legs, but…

He couldn’t afford to give up now.

Cautiously slipping outside – they hadn’t left a guard on his room, thankfully – he took ingredients from the garden and fashioned another skin hardening pill. This one was his insurance in case they chose to punish him by whipping.

Reopening the floorboards into the crawlspace, he let Froggy and Snips out of his satchel bag and placed them down below, giving Snips the skin hardening pill to hold. “If I don’t come back by morning, come find me.”

Closing the space and pulling his sleeping mat over it, Booker sighed. He was… exhausted and hungry and starting to lose his full coherence. But he wanted to have this done with. Whatever came next – if he spent the night sleeping in a cell – this whole business would be over soon.

He could be sure the Sect had no interest in killing him; duels and deaths were common enough among lower disciples that his crime wasn’t murder, and self-defense was no excuse. Instead, his crime was being clumsy enough to kill his opponent and deprive the Sect of a useful resource.

And there was no sense, from the Sect’s perspective, in responding to the waste of resources by doubling down and wasting more.

If he was a ranking disciple… The punishment would be a whipping, and nothing more. Brutal, painful, and likely to etch a lesson into his skin, but non-lethal for a cultivator. Some disciples were known to kill often and walk off the punishment.

Whatever comes…

It will be consequences of my own actions, and I can only face it head on.

He paused in front of the basin, adjusting his robes. After several days without washing or changing clothes, they looked ragged, and if someone looked closely there were still splotchy patches of red blood.

— — —

Booker knocked on Greenmoon's door. It was Sprout who opened the door, and his face stiffened with surprise, but Greenmoon was sitting in the living room beyond the doorway, nd the old Fox didn't seem surprised at all.

He beckoned with one finger. "Come in," Greenmoon said. Booker silently obeyed.

"I have killed Hu Bao." Booker said. "It was in self defense."

"This I already understand." Greenmoon said.

“If I were better, I could have spared his life.” Booker admitted.

“Yes,” Greenmoon agreed. “It was an awful waste.”

“What happens now.” Booker asked. Indicating simply by the way he had phrased it that he was surrendering to Greenmoons judgment.

"We visit the Hall of Justice," Greenmoon said, "and they will make their determination. I do not see the point in throwing you to the dogs. That would only follow waste with waste. Therefore, in this matter I will be your advocate.”

Booker dipped his head, grateful.

“You-” Greenmoon pointed towards Sprout, holding out a slim letter. “Take this to Valley tiger at once.”

“He is the captain of the ninth district. He will want to know what has become of his nephew.” Sprout nodded and departed. “It is best-” Greenmoon added, in the tone of a private aside for Booker only, confidential whisper of sly information, "- to enter battle with all your soldiers."

— — —

When they visited the enforcers’ courtyard together, they found Valley Tiger there, leaning against a wall with his arms folded.

“Ah, salutations, Captain Tiger.” Greenmoon said warmly, clasping his hands and dipping his head. “What a day! You must be so proud of your nephew.”

“Proud?” Valley Tiger’s face bent with disbelief.

“He defeated a cultivator! To say nothing of the fact he’s a cripple, the capacity to fight without cultivation of his own surely shows the Valley line is as strong as ever…” Booker grimaced. Greenmoon’s flattery seemed like entirely the wrong track.

Valley Tiger’s sneer only deepened.

“Hmph. He killed a younger boy, who at the time was poisoned by a berserking pill…” For a moment, Valley Tiger deigned to glance directly towards Booker. Their eyes met, and Booker was unsure of the message being sent, but he held the gaze without flinching. They both had the same rare green eyes. “There’s no honor in it.”

“Huh? But your nephew was attacked! He was ambushed–”

“By his fellow apprentice, yes. One of yours, I believe.” Valley Tiger did not seem to be bending in the least. Booker wondered whether it was really better he was here.

Behind them, the door opened. A female enforcer stepped through, bowing to both of them deeply in turn, and barely sparing Booker a glance. Despite this being in theory his trial…

I’m barely considered a party to this.

The best thing I can do is shut up and let Greenmoon do his thing– if I speak, I’ll be condemning myself by appearing uppity or ignorant.

“Greetings, honored Captain, and greetings, elder brother Greenmoon. I’m surprised both of you have made time for such a small matter.”

As she spoke Booker was trying to place something about her, and it finally clicked. She looked remarkably like Caihong, the medicine-seller he’d bought his refinement materials from. The two of them must be sisters.

One consorting with criminals, one an enforcer. I suppose they must watch each other’s backs pretty effectively, what with standing on both sides of the line.

“Ah, my dear enforcer Yaling, but good order requires everything to be in its place, not just the great matters. This may be a small affair but it troubles me.” Greenmoon said, holding up a finger. “I came here to see that justice was done. I believe my pupil to have extenuating circumstances to the murder of Hu Bao. And when he runs his own mouth, well, he’s very bright but not the most diplomatic.”

“At his age, we all believe we’re prodigies. Come inside, let me make the two of you some tea…”

“Not necessary.” Valley Tiger grunted, stepping into the office behind her.

“I, on the other hand, would find handling this matter without tea a trial in and of itself…” Greenmoon countered.

Booker simply stepped in between them. The office was extremely simple, with a low desk and a set of reed mats to sit on before it. He took the reed mat in the center and sat down.

She made tea easily, with a rune-scribed and self-heating teapot that glowed a deep orange before settling back down to cool. When it had, she poured the water into three bowls, hydrating little black curls of dried tea leaf that expanded in the hot water.

“You are of course welcome to weigh in, but I still believe the matter is somewhat easily resolved, so long as our suspect is willing to answer a few of my questions.” She settled down behind the desk. “Valley Tiger, may I say that you are truly a diligent uncle, coming all the way to the Sect for this? I know you don’t enjoy setting foot on Sect grounds.”

Her eyes fixed on Valley Tiger, and Booker felt the unspoken message: Are you here to protect your nephew?

“I’m here to see justice done.” His voice was clipped and harsh. “I don’t intend to shelter the boy. Whatever punishment he’s earned, he should receive.”

“My…” She said, a non-committal little noise more than a word, and glanced to Greenmoon.

“The boy is within his rights to defend himself. The only error he made was going so far that he deprived the Sect of a student – and I wouldn’t want us to waste one life in payment for another.” Greenmoon said, lifting the tea bowl to his lips. “My! This tea really is quite good. Wherever did you get such a luxurious thing…”

She smirked. “My sister got it for me. A present.”

“Then you honor me, sharing it out for such an occasion.” The actual details of the case seemed almost lost in pleasantries as they chattered–

But Booker knew better.

The tea in his bowl wasn’t just normal tea.

Saffron-Black Sinensis Leaf

Powder // Dull Quality

A tea that turns from saffron-orange to deep black over the course of the curing process.

Effects:

Qi Restoration 5% (-)

This is a valuable herb. Sharing it is no minor flex…

And judging by what Greenmoon said – asking about its origin – its something he probably suspects was smuggled or confiscated.

He’s gently reminding her she has secrets of her own.

“Well, since Hu Bao was your apprentice, and you are the wronged party, your word is all that really matters here. It would be pointless to punish him against your wishes.” Enforcer Yaling agreed. “There’s no reason not to call this yesterday’s news and move on. So long as your protege answers a few questions…”

“Ask away.” Greenmoon agreed.

“Of course, this shouldn’t be anything but routine.”

Is this… really it? They don’t care about Hu Bao at all. They don’t care about anything but their own careers. A man was killed, and I held the knife, but I’m the only one here with even a shred of guilt.

“One thing…” She shuffled her papers.

Booker sat forward, glad someone was finally speaking to him instead of past him.

“What was your purpose with the refinement materials you bought?” She was suddenly looking directly at him, the first time she’d done so. Booker felt a chill pass through his bones.

“I… Don’t see what that has to do with anything.” He stumbled.

“Well, my sibling reports that you bought an unusual quantity of refinement materials from her.” The enforcer said patiently. “And yet, nobody reports you using the alchemy furnaces.”

Goddamn it. I’m lucky they didn’t find my apartment, if they dug this far…

But why?

“Of course,” She added. “The natural thing to believe is that you were performing some duty for your master.”

“Hmm?” Greenmoon seemed off-kilter, for once. “No, it had nothing to do with me.”

“Very well. In that case, the question stands. What was your purpose for purchasing all those refinement materials?”

“I was practicing my refinement…”

“But not in any of the Sect furnaces. Why were you trying to hide?”

Booker had no idea where she was going with this, but the damned thing was, it was effective. She had shifted the entire temperature of the room: Greenmoon and Valley Tiger were now looking at him.

“When you’re a cripple, many things that seem easy, like putting your name down to use a furnace, might be complicated if someone takes offense. What right does a cripple have to be on the list, above other disciples? You see.” He spun rapidly, feeling his engines fire up from nothing. Yes, this was it. This was what he needed to snap free of the fog he’d felt since killing Hu Bao.

Pressure.

Booker had been under pressure since the moment he arrived on this world. Now, he realized, he relied on it to keep going. Enough pressure and you didn’t have time to think about a million other things, like how much you missed Earth.

“I see, and that makes perfect sense. Why allow other disciples to push you around…” She even laughed slightly, as if he’d made a joke. But the smile didn’t reach her eyes, he noticed. Those remained cold and steely. “But where did you lay hands on a pill furnace to use?”

Shit. Most refinement methods require a true furnace, not just a kiln that can be slapped together…

He hesitated, and in that moment, she asked another question:

“For that matter, can you produce any refined material to corroborate your story? If not, then you expect us to believe a story with no evidence.”

Shit!

“This has nothing to do with the death of Hu Bao.” Booker replied coldly.

“Ah, but it is a matter of Sect security. Buying large amounts of materials, yet not using our furnaces, disappearing from the Sect for days at a time… You could be accused of working with outside alchemists to steal from the Sect.”

“Now, that is an accusation I won’t stand for!” Greenmoon interjected, setting his bowl down with some force. “My apprentice is an honorable young man.”

“Instructor Greenmoon, I can see you are fond of him. But justice must be done. If he cannot produce a reason that satisfies my questions then…”

“I told you the truth. I was practicing a new refinement technique.” Booker said.

“With what furnace?” She immediately countered, her eyes snapping away from Greenmoon onto him.

I… have no choice but to give up part of the truth. Any pretense here risks falling into her trap. The truth is my best shield…

“This technique doesn’t require a furnace.”

“A technique not known in any of the Sects archives.” She commented. “And what evidence can you produce for this?”

“None. It all burned to ash.” Booker looked up and held her gaze. He had committed now, and he would see this lie through. “I was testing a new technique. It failed, so there’s nothing to show.”

“A new technique…” Greenmoon repeated, sounding shellshocked.

“Do you expect us to believe you invented this technique and spent a ransom of silver testing it yourself? Be realistic.”

“The technique was Master Ping’s. Just a theory of his that I…” He froze, for a moment, then grit his teeth. Master Ping can blow this all to hell with a word, but if I don’t bring him in, I’m ultimately spinning this story with no back-up and no evidence.

He’s away right now, and will be for a while.

In that time… I have to believe I can make this matter disappear, without relying on him to lie for me when he gets back and can be asked about the whole matter.

“I discovered it in his notes while he was away.” Booker finished.

Better a disobedient pupil than a thief from the Sect.

“My my my… A new refinement technique. You know, the discovery of such things is highly rewarded.” She leaned back, smiling. Booker read triumph in that smile. Is this what she wanted all along? To use this trial to shake me down for secrets? Was this… really all for profit?

At every step I underestimate what a den of snakes I’ve set foot in.

“Ahhh… So old Ping had something like this up his sleeve.” Greenmoon chuckled with delight, like somebody had given him an unexpected but expensive present.

“I expect to be compensated for this discovery, naturally. It was only my family’s investigation that brought it to light.” Yaling had turned to Greenmoon. She was equally happy, a cold and triumphant smile on her face as she finally sipped her tea.

“Of course.” Greenmoon agreed. “Your diligence in this matter is exemplary.”

“What…” Valley Tiger finally spoke. “Does the word ‘justice’ mean?”

“Mmm?” For once she didn’t know what to say, so instead she made a quizzical sound. Or maybe her mouth was just full of tea.

“What does the word ‘justice’ mean?” Valley Tiger repeated.

“It means… all parties get what they deserve?” She attempted.

“Surely my friend Valley Tiger does not mean to imply the Sect does not know the meaning of justice?” Greenmoon raised an eyebrow, and Booker sensed actual anger behind his calm demeanor and smiling words. “Ha, of course not. Why, the entire city thrives because of us. That is justice. It begins from on high and descends to all.”

“Of course.” Valley Tiger said stiffly. “Forgive me. I was merely asking to be enlightened by our friend the enforcer. Having heard my answer, I will go.” He stood up.

“One moment,” Booker said hurriedly as the door opened. “I’d like to speak with my uncle outside.”

“Granted.” Yaling agreed.

Valley Tiger shot him a look, but said nothing against it, holding the door open as Booker climbed to his feet.

They stepped out into the silence of the hallway together. The enforcer’s courtyard was not open to the air like the others. It was enclosed, and dark, and there were many cells built into the floor with railings that allowed the guards to walk directly over the prisoners, as if they were trampling the enemies of the Sect underfoot. There was no space in those vertical cells to lie down. You simply existed in limbo, leaning against the walls for support or curling up at the bottom.

It stunk of misery.

“What is it?” Valley Tiger asked.

“I guess…” Booker paused. “I had the same question.”

“Then you heard the same answer I did.”

“I wanted to know what you thought it meant– justice.” Booker insisted.

“And I’ve told you.” Valley Tiger’s lips twitched with irritation. “Justice means whatever the people with power say it does. A stone is a stone, no matter how you argue. And no matter how you argue, the people with power will hold the definition of justice. If they feel this is justice… then so be it.”

He walked away and Booker was left feeling strangely furious, like he wanted to slap Valley Tiger in the face and tell him there was more than justice to that.

But I can’t…

Because…

I don’t have the power.

I forgot. His fist clenched. I forgot so easily. This world treats lives like trash. Everything I felt when I killed Hu Bao… It made me selfish. It made me sink into myself and think I should just disappear from the world to pay for my guilt. But…

This world will only get better if the people in power believe in justice.

And the cripples of the Sect, and the people in the city, and even the disciples of the Sect itself, will all pay. They’ll suffer and be treated like dogs because there is no justice unless we make it.

If I think I need to suffer for what I did for Hu Bao I should just cut off a finger or three and be done with it. But if I give up on cultivation, I give up on making the world a better place. And when someone gives up on making the world around them better, it’s not them that pays. It’s everyone else.

You can make all the arguments you want.

The power to make people listen doesn’t come from pretty words.

He pushed the door open and stepped back inside. Greenmoon and Enforcer Yaling were chatting idly and sipping their tea.

“I’m sorry to delay things.” Booker said as he sat back down. “I’m ready to hear my punishment.”

“Oh?” Yaling almost laughed, and although she restrained herself Booker caught the slight twitch. “Yes, of course.”

“One year’s confinement to Sect grounds seem right, yes?” Greenmoon suggested.

“Yes, I think that’s an excellent suggestion. One year’s confinement to the Sect grounds.” She agreed.

“In that time, of course, my wayward disciple will have to be kept busy…”

“Ah, your suggestion?” She asked.

“I was thinking this refinement technique of Master Ping’s seemed interesting. Perhaps if we furnished him with a laboratory…” Greenmoon elaborated. “We could see a successful refinement within the year.”

Of course, I should have seen this coming from Greenmoon. Now that I’ve been shaken down for what he thinks is a secret stolen from Master Ping, he wants to profit from it.

“Naturally, junior disciple Rain should understand that he’ll be compensated too for this discovery.” Yaling fixed him with an even stare. “We all stand to profit if this discovery of Master Ping’s is a true refinement technique.”

Booker forced himself to smile, and even bowed his head. “In truth, this secret was too big for me to handle alone. That was why it was discovered. I understand that.”

In other words…

I agree to let them take a cut of this secret, and that I won’t try to sneak away and sell it under their noses. That’s what they’re worried about right now.

But in reality….

I’m happy to give them this if it protects my real secrets. I can only hope that by the time Master Ping comes back, I’ll have found a way to convince him to help me keep up the lie…

Or, and knowing the old man, this is more likely…

A way to escape the Sect entirely.

“I’m glad we had this talk.” Greenmoon rose from his seat and gestured for Booker to do likewise. “But we’ll cease taking up any more of Enforcer Yaling’s time for this trivial matter.” He dipped his head in a half-bow.

“So long as my contribution is remembered.” She bowed much more deeply.

Within the politics of the Sect, this is the justice people can expect. Today, for once, that benefits me…

But it’s still wrong.

Together, Greenmoon and Booker departed. They walked a long way through the Sect, passing other disciples and novices hurrying about their tasks, or Instructors walking with their noses in the air. They saw a fight break out between two cliques of disciples, as quick as lightning striking – one wrong word and two passing groups lunged for each other.

Greenmoon simply did not stop walking. He walked straight into the middle of the fight and the battle ceased, people pulling themselves aside so he didn’t step on them. One boy whirled and tried to throw a punch before he saw who it was – Greenmoon simply waved a hand and a massive swirl of stormy air lifted the boy off his feet and flung him back.

When they had cleared the scene, the fighting resumed behind them.

“It’s a pity you didn’t come to me first.” Greenmoon said eventually. “If you had, we would have no obligation to pay Miss Yaling for the discovery.”

“I… didn’t want you to think less of me.” He tried.

Greenmoon scoffed. “You thought you could make your name on this. Understandable, a young man wanting to keep such a thing to himself. But if there’s one thing to be learned here– give the dragon his due. If you want to do anything in this Sect, there is someone you must pay to do it. Trying to do things any other way will make you everyone’s shared enemy.”

“I’ll remember these words.” Booker agreed.

“See that you do.” They had come to Greenmoon’s door, and Greenmoon nodded to him. “And be more careful! Almost getting yourself killed… it can become a habit.”

“Not one of the habits that leads to a long life.” Booker agreed again, and bowed to his teacher. “Thank you for the wisdom.”

They parted ways, and Booker walked directly for his room. It wasn’t until he was inside and the door was shut that he let out a deep breath of exhaustion.

God. I’m so deep in lies. I’m lying about why I’m lying…

He opened the panel in the floorboards and Snips buzzed out, holding the skin hardening pill between his claws. Froggie struggled to climb out, and Booker gave him a helping hand.

“Looks like it was a false alarm.”

Nobody cared.

He sighed, rolling up his sleeves. There was nothing to do but keep going. And right now?

He wanted to practice until his knuckles bled. “C’mon gang.”

But as he walked towards the training room, he was stopped by two cripples, who came up and bowed deeply. “Brother Rain!”

“Uh…” For a moment, Booker swayed on his feet. Exhaustion and hunger and having to make up stories had taken its toll. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Brother Rain, we haven’t met but… we were the guards at the storehouse that day.”

“Oh. Brothers, are you okay?” He rallied enough to look at them properly. They looked… remarkably good, for order men sentenced to be brutalized by superhuman tormentors.

“Brother Rain.” They lowered their voices. “The pills you gave us were miracles! It still hurt, but a day later and the pain is already fading. We can even walk!”

“I can see that.” Despite himself, Booker smiled. “I’m glad. But how did you know it was me?”

“Brother Rain is the only man who owns such a magnificent spirit beast, and Brother Chen Jie knows every spirit beast trainer in the Sect and the city beyond. He made sure we had no ill intents, but eventually let your name slip.. Brother Rain, if there’s ever anything we can do…” The two men were very serious.

“Ah, there is one thing…” As if on cue, his stomach rumbled. “I… decided to fast except for spiritual food a few days ago, and I’m paying the price now. Do you know anything about where all that rice disappeared to?”

“Hmm, Brother…” They grimaced and made a show of scratching their heads. “On that matter…”

“It’s not about finding who disappeared with the shipment.” Booker clarified. “If you knew that, you would never have been in such a bad position. I’m just wondering if you knew… any other places it may have gone first.”

Greenmoon would be proud of my euphemisms.

“Aha. Of course, walk with us.” They nodded eagerly, waving for him to follow. “Naturally, as with so much the Sect does, there are allowances made. Things that go astray from their proper place. It’s an expected part of the position to set aside a little for yourself. We’re not saints, after all. We’re innocent, but not saints. We would never steal so much that the Sect noticed… But we have our little victories.”

“Of course.” Booker said. After all he’d seen… it would be ridiculous to condemn them for that.

It was clear that Greenmoon was right, in his way. Within the Sect’s justice, there was ‘stealing’ and there was stealing – one was everywhere, and one was brutally punished.

And the difference wasn’t whether you stole…

But whether you played the game, danced the careful dance of paying off your superiors to look the other way, and minded that you never stole so much that it was felt missing.

“We had a stash set aside, but truth be told, we don’t want to meddle with it now. Getting caught stealing even a grain would probably sign our death warrants, so…”

“I’ll kindly dispose of anything it would inconvenience to possess.” Booker said.

“It’s waiting at the Porkbelly Inn.” They explained in a whisper. “The innkeeper is Zhang’s cousin and keeps a little place in his pantry set aside for us. Not just rice either. We’ve got cabbage, spring onions, all kinds of simple spiritual foods. Just say you’re a friend of Gong Zhang.”

Booker bowed gratefully. “Thank you.”

Reaching out, Gong Zhang grabbed Booker’s hand and clasped it in both fists as he bowed in return. “No, Brother Rain, thank you. Few knew and fewer cared that we were innocent– and perhaps it wasn’t even guilt or innocence that moved your hand– but you stepped in and saved our lives. Old Master Ping has always been the guardian of the weak here in the Mantis Sect. I’m glad to know that in his fading years, he has found a disciple who will carry on his work.”

Behind him, the other guard also bowed.

Booker was speechless. They departed, and he simply massaged his jaw, wondering if he should have admitted he was leaving Master Ping’s care.

“No, no…” Booker sighed, speaking aloud to himself, or maybe to Snips and Froggie on his shoulder. “It’s better to let people believe in a better me. Maybe I’ll even resemble him some day.”

Walking to the training room, he nodded to the few novices still tirelessly working away, expending the energy of their youth practicing strike after strike. He took a corner of the room that he could expect to have to himself.

Rolling a reed mat around the wooden post to soften the impacts, he closed his eyes. Concentrated.

And without opening them, threw the hardest punch he could. The wooden post below shook as his fists hammered into the mat, one blow leading to two, three, four…

He fought against nothing until it felt like he was bleeding sweat. He moved in closer to the mat with every punch, until his forehead was almost leaning against it, and there was only space to throw sharp hooking strikes, the kind you’d trade in a clinch when two fighters were locked head to head, trading body blows, aiming for the kidneys…

He felt the life and death pressure on his skin again.

The aura of death he’d felt facing down Valley Tiger…

The very real fear in his chest, in the moments before he’d begun the chain of decisions that would end with Hu Bao dead.

Booker leaned back, and smashed his skull down into the mat, brutally headbutting the post and reeling back instantly, his skull ringing like a bell from the impact. Blood dripped into his eyes as he swayed, barely on his feet.