Ciel’s new eyes were disappointing.
That was Mara’s opinion.
Ciel’s opinion was that Mara had unreasonable standards.
“Spiritual.” She moved the scrap to the left.
“Mortal.” To the right.
“Spiritual.” Left.
“Mortal.” Right.
“Spiritual.” Left.
Mara watched from behind the counter.
Nora handled customers.
Elias worked in the rear workshop.
And Ciel sat beside a wooden crate filled with what appeared to be the accumulated remains of several years of bad purchasing decisions.
Pieces of metal.
Broken jewelry.
Stone fragments.
Bone.
Ceramic.
A cracked knife.
Three buttons.
Something that might once have been part of a lamp.
Mara had mixed spiritual and mortal objects together and informed Ciel that identifying them was now part of her training.
Ciel suspected Mara had simply discovered a free way to sort inventory.
She lifted another scrap.
Nothing.
No faint depth.
No sense of fullness.
“Mortal.” Right pile.
Mara said nothing.
Ciel picked up the next.
A narrow strip of gray metal.
She concentrated.
Her eyes hurt.
There.
Very faint.
“Spiritual.” Left.
Mara remained silent.
Ciel frowned.
“Are you going to tell me if I’m right?” “Eventually.” “That makes training unnecessarily stressful.” “Stress is educational.” “Is that something your master taught you?” “No.” Mara smiled.
“I invented it.” Ciel looked back at the crate.
Third Layer had changed very little about ordinary life.
She was stronger.
Much stronger.
Her cultivation reservoir had expanded.
Her third condensed layer had settled.
People one or two layers below her had begun occasionally calling her Senior, which still felt like a clerical error.
And if she concentrated hard enough, spiritual materials possessed that strange additional presence.
Not color.
Not shape.
Something closer to weight without weight.
A thing could look ordinary and still feel spiritually full.
Sometimes.
When Ciel’s eyes cooperated.
She lifted a small black stone.
Looked.
Nothing.
Turned it.
Still nothing.
“Mortal.” Right pile.
Mara finally moved.
She picked up the stone.
“You are certain?” Ciel looked again.
“No.” “Good.” “That’s not helpful.” Mara placed the black stone on the counter.
“Probe it.” Ciel sent out a thin thread of Qi.
The answer came back weakly.
Very weakly.
But there.
Ciel stared.
“Spiritual.” “Yes.” “I couldn’t see it.” “No.” “Why?” “Because you cannot yet see everything.” Ciel frowned.
“Then what’s the point?” Mara tapped the black stone.
“Not seeing something is not the same as proving it isn’t there.” Ciel became quiet.
Mara pushed the stone back toward her.
“Remember that.” Ciel looked at it again.
Ordinary.
Almost.
The lesson bothered her enough that she knew she would.
Elias emerged from the workshop carrying a Green Feather Fan.
“Your fourth outer rib is wrong.” Ciel looked over.
“It was correct yesterday.” “You changed the angle.” “I improved it.” “You changed it.” “Those are not mutually exclusive.” Elias placed the fan in front of her.
“It introduces torsion during closing.” Ciel opened it.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
“It still works.” “So does a chair with three legs.” Nora looked up from her ledger.
“Not well.” Elias nodded.
“Exactly.” Ciel looked betrayed.
“You are supposed to work for us.” “I am.” “This feels hostile.” “It is quality control.” Talia’s voice came from the doorway.
“Same thing, really.” Everyone looked over.
Talia entered carrying a small packet.
Elias immediately held out his hand.
“Fire Bee Wax?” She smiled.
“You could say hello.” “Hello.” His hand remained out.
Talia sighed and gave him the packet.
“Fire Bee Wax.” “Good.” He turned toward the workshop.
Talia watched him go.
Elena, who had entered behind her, looked at Talia.
Talia looked back.
Elena smiled.
“Don’t.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You were thinking.” “Unfortunately, yes.” Elena appeared fully recovered now.
The cuts from Garran had become thin marks.
Her shoulder moved cleanly again.
The Earthhorn Bow rested across her back.
The Green Feather Fan hung folded at her waist.
Third Layer had made her movements slightly different.
Not dramatically.
Just more certain.
Ciel wondered if other people saw the same change in her.
Elena looked at the two piles.
“What are you doing?” “Learning that my eyes lie.” Mara corrected: “Learning that her eyes are incomplete.” “Same feeling.” Elena picked up a metal scrap from the left pile.
“Spiritual?” “Yes.” She picked another.
“Spiritual?” “Yes.” Then one from the right.
“Mortal?” “Yes.” Elena nodded.
“Useful.” “Elias said I can currently identify whether something is spiritually interesting.” Elena thought.
“Also useful.” “It sounds unimpressive.” “You’re Third Layer.” “So are you.” “I shoot things.” Ciel stared.
Elena shrugged.
“Your eyes have more future.” Mara waited until everyone was present.
That should have worried them.
Instead, Ciel only realized what it meant when Mara locked the front door in the middle of the afternoon.
Nora looked up.
“We’re closing?” “For an hour.” “Appointment?” “No.” Mara turned toward Elias.
“Workshop.” Then toward Ciel.
“You too.” Elena raised a hand.
“Should I leave?” Mara considered.
“No.” Talia looked pleased.
“Me?” “You are already here.” “Excellent.” Mara sighed.
“That was not an invitation to touch anything.” The core had been waiting for weeks.
Ciel recognized it immediately.
The third intact Green Feather Pigeon core.
The one Mara had examined after Elena’s hunt.
The first had been unsuitable.
The second too.
The third— possibly.
Mara had refused to say it could be split.
Only that splitting it could be attempted.
The core rested inside a padded wooden box.
Pale green.
Oval.
Slightly translucent around the edges.
Even with Ciel’s incomplete sight, it felt intense compared with almost everything in the shop.
Dense spirituality.
Wind.
She could not identify the element through her eyes yet.
But she knew what it was.
That knowledge made the perception easier to interpret.
Elias stared.
“What are we doing?” Ciel answered cheerfully.
“Cutting it in half.” Silence.
Elias looked at her.
Then Mara.
Then Ciel again.
“No.” Ciel sighed.
“Why does everyone keep saying that to me?” “Because you just proposed destroying a Grade One beast core.” “It worked before.” “By accident.” “It still worked.” “Accidents are not methodology.” Mara opened the box fully.
“Look first.” Elias frowned.
Then leaned closer.
He did not touch.
For several breaths, his expression remained skeptical.
Then changed.
Barely.
“There’s a growth irregularity.” Mara nodded.
“A seam.” “Natural?” “I believe so.” Elias crouched lower.
Took out a narrow lens.
Then a thin metal probe.
He held the probe close without making contact.
A thread of Qi entered it.
The tip vibrated.
Slowly he traced the core’s surface.
Ciel watched his face.
“So?” “Quiet.” “That’s not an answer.” “It is while I’m thinking.” Talia leaned toward Elena.
“He says that a lot.” Elena whispered: “You like that.” Talia’s face warmed.
“I like competence.” “Of course.” Elias spent nearly twenty minutes inspecting the core.
When he finally straightened, he looked unhappy.
Ciel had learned this sometimes meant he was interested.
“It might work.” Ciel smiled.
He raised one finger.
“Might.” “That’s what Master said.” “Then Senior Voss is correct.” Mara looked pleased.
Ciel looked offended.
“I said it first.” “You said ‘cut it in half.'” “Conceptually correct.” “Technically barbaric.” Mara interrupted.
“We are not cutting through the center.” Elias nodded.
“If the internal structure follows this line, pressure can separate it along the growth boundary.” “And if it doesn’t?” Elena asked.
Elias looked toward the core.
“It becomes expensive gravel.” Elena took one step back.
“Understood.” The first Whisper Pair had been born from a damaged courier core.
Dorian’s old Green Feather Courier Wind core had already been cracked.
Ciel’s original idea had simply been to stop treating damage as uselessness.
Two pieces from the same spiritual structure.
Two remnants that still responded to one another.
Sympathetic resonance.
A voice entered one side.
The artifact reduced it to vibration and Qi pattern.
The paired half reproduced enough of that pattern near an ear to create intelligible sound.
The result had required: bad prototypes, feedback screams, burned fingers, ghost voices, terrible directionality, and one deeply unfortunate afternoon when the artifact reproduced Mara’s voice louder than Mara herself.
Eventually— it worked.
This time they wanted to do it intentionally.
That made everything worse.
Elias prepared the worktable.
Not Ciel’s worktable.
His.
He had made this distinction increasingly clear.
A padded clamp held the core without crushing it.
Two stabilizing plates rested on either side.
Thin inscriptions had been engraved across both.
Mara placed four low-grade spirit stones into small auxiliary sockets.
Ciel stared.
“Four?” Mara did not look at her.
“Do you want the core to survive?” “Yes.” “Then stop counting.” Ciel stopped counting aloud.
Internally she continued.
Elias brought out something Ciel had not seen before.
A thin wire.
Almost hair-fine.
Silver-gray.
“What is that?” “Spirit cutting filament.” “Expensive?” “Yes.” Ciel looked toward Mara.
“Do not count.” Ciel looked away.
Talia stood beside a small tray of tools.
Elena stayed farther back.
Nora had been instructed to tell customers the shop was temporarily unavailable.
Ciel’s job was unclear.
She asked.
Mara answered: “Watch.” That felt insulting.
Then Mara added: “And remember.” That felt less so.
The process began with Qi.
Mara placed both hands near the stabilizing plates.
Not touching the core.
Her Seventh Layer reserve moved through the inscriptions.
Wind Qi inside the beast core reacted.
The pale green surface brightened slightly.
Elias held the cutting filament taut.
He did not saw.
He lowered it carefully toward the seam.
The first contact produced a sound so faint Ciel almost missed it.
Ting.
Like glass touched by a fingernail.
Elias stopped.
Mara adjusted the Qi.
“Again.” The wire pressed.
Ting.
No cut.
Ciel held her breath.
Elias changed angle.
The filament moved less than a hair.
Pressure increased.
The core trembled.
Talia whispered: “That’s unpleasant.” Elena whispered back: “And you’re the one who cooks medicine until it explodes.” “Rarely.” “That word isn’t comforting.” A line appeared.
Tiny.
Natural.
Not where the filament had cut.
Where the core had chosen to separate.
Ciel leaned closer.
Elias said: “Don’t.” She stopped.
Mara’s Qi remained steady.
The line extended.
One finger’s width.
Then another.
Ciel could not see the internal structure.
But with her new perception, she could see something changing.
The core’s spiritual fullness no longer felt entirely singular.
Not two objects yet.
But becoming two.
Fascinating.
Terrifying.
The fracture reached halfway around.
Then turned.
Wrong direction.
Elias’s face changed.
“Stop.” Mara did not.
“Senior.” “If I stop feeding it, the internal pressure collapses.” “If you continue, the line crosses the resonance cluster.” Ciel looked between them.
“Which is worse?” Both answered: “Quiet.” Ciel closed her mouth.
Elias loosened the cutting filament.
Mara reduced the Qi by an amount Ciel could not judge.
The wrong fracture slowed.
Stopped.
A bead of sweat appeared near Elias’s temple.
He repositioned one stabilizing plate.
“More on the left.” Mara adjusted.
“Not that much.” Mara adjusted again.
“Hold.” Silence.
The line trembled.
Then— crk.
Elena flinched.
Talia inhaled sharply.
Ciel’s stomach dropped.
For one horrible moment, the entire core seemed to lose cohesion.
Its light dimmed.
Mara’s hands moved.
Qi surged through the stabilization array.
Elias snapped: “Less!” Mara reduced.
The line corrected.
Followed the natural seam.
Then completed itself.
The core separated.
Two pieces settled into the padding.
Not equal.
One slightly larger.
Perhaps fifty-five percent.
The other forty-five.
No one moved.
Ciel stared.
“They’re intact?” Elias looked offended.
“I haven’t checked.” “That means you don’t know.” “Correct.” “Then why sound offended?” “Because you spoke before inspection.” Mara removed her hands slowly.
Elias disabled the stabilizing plates.
The two core halves remained.
No collapse.
No spiritual gravel.
No sudden dispersal.
Good.
Not enough.
They needed resonance.
Mara moved the smaller half to a second padded tray.
One pace away.
Then two.
Ciel watched.
Nothing.
Her heart sank.
Elias touched the larger half with the tip of a testing rod.
A small pulse of Qi entered.
The larger core vibrated.
For one heartbeat— nothing.
Then the smaller half trembled.
Ciel’s breath stopped.
Again.
Pulse.
Vibration.
Response.
Elias looked up.
Mara smiled.
Ciel nearly shouted.
“It worked.” Mara lifted one finger.
“The split worked.” Ciel corrected: “The important part worked.” Elias was already testing again.
“Resonance exists.” “Yes.” “Strength?” “Weak.” Ciel’s smile faded.
“Weak?” “Compared with the first pair’s original response.” Mara nodded.
“But stable.” Elias repeated the pulse.
The smaller half answered again.
“Possibly because the halves are unequal.” “Can we compensate?” “Likely.” Ciel smiled again.
Elias frowned.
“Stop doing that.” “What?” “Celebrating before the artifact exists.” “I like optimism.” “Refining does not.” Talia smiled at him.
“That’s why you need us.” Elias looked at her.
“Why?” Talia sighed.
“Never mind.” Building the second Whisper Pair took three days.
Not because they failed seven times.
Because Elias refused to call something finished while it remained ugly.
Ciel discovered this was occasionally worse.
The first pair had grown through desperation.
Make it stop screaming.
Make the voice intelligible.
Make the metal stop heating.
Make the user hear it without everyone in the room hearing it too.
Make it survive.
Appearance came later.
Elias began with appearance and function simultaneously.
He changed the Orion plate dimensions.
Reduced unnecessary metal.
Balanced the core housing.
Separated the activation inscription from the sound reproduction array.
Changed the gold chain lengths.
Retained the accidental damping effect Ciel had discovered during the first prototypes.
Standardized the ear hooks.
Created removable rear covers for repairs.
Ciel watched him work.
Then looked at the original pair.
Then back.
“I dislike you.” Elias continued engraving.
“Why?” “Mine worked.” “Yes.” “This one looks much better.” “Yes.” “And uses less material.” “Yes.” “And the inscriptions are cleaner.” “Yes.” Ciel waited.
Elias finally looked up.
“What answer were you hoping for?” “Something less irritating.” “I don’t know how to make the original prettier retroactively.” Ciel stared.
Talia laughed from the doorway.
The new earrings resembled the first pair without looking homemade.
Thin blue Orion plates.
Green oval core sections.
Fine gold hooks.
Short decorative chains.
Small droplets that moved subtly with the wearer’s head.
Elegant.
Not extravagant.
The core halves remained visibly different sizes.
Elias compensated through the surrounding array.
The larger half transmitted slightly less aggressively.
The smaller reproduced more efficiently.
Mara approved.
Ciel approved reluctantly.
Nora asked how much they could charge.
Mara approved enthusiastically.
The first test occurred inside Voss Appraisals.
Talia wore one earring.
Elena took the other to the food shop next door.
Ciel remained beside Elias.
Mara stood near Talia.
Nora continued doing actual work.
Talia pressed the touch rune.
Fed in a thread of Qi.
“Elena?” A heartbeat.
Then: “I can hear you.” Clear.
Talia smiled.
“So can everyone here.” Elias frowned.
“Too loud.” He adjusted the reproduction inscription.
Again.
“Elena?” “Still here.” This time the voice sat near Talia’s ear.
Not in the room.
Elias nodded.
Ciel hated how satisfying that was.
Next street.
Then three.
Then Commercial District.
Then city wall.
No problem.
The next day, Elena took one earring several li outside Blue Port.
Clear.
Farther.
Still clear.
Water-rich coastal Qi helped.
As expected.
No miraculous increase in theoretical range.
No Grade One core becoming Grade Two because Elias had better handwriting.
But the artifact: used less Qi, heated less, produced cleaner sound, recovered from interruptions faster, and no longer required the user to tap it twice because one inscription occasionally failed to wake.
Ciel considered that last feature unnecessary luxury.
Everyone disagreed.
Elias did not understand what he had helped build until Elena was nearly twenty li away.
That was the moment.
Her voice came through the earring beside him.
“The road is muddy.
Tell Ciel she owes me boots.” Ciel leaned toward it.
“You chose the road.” A pause.
“I chose friendship poorly.” Elias did not laugh.
He stared at the earring.
Then at Mara.
“Twenty li?” “Approximately.” “Directly?” “No relay.” “No formation nodes?” “No.” “No paired signal stones along the road?” “No.” Elias looked toward Ciel.
Ciel became uncomfortable.
“What?” “Myriad Scales doesn’t sell this.” Silence.
Mara’s expression became very calm.
Elias looked back toward the artifact.
“Not at this distance.” “No,” Mara said.
“They have courier systems.” “Yes.” “Message talismans.” “Yes.” “Formation-linked devices.” “Yes.” “But not this.” Mara smiled.
“No.” Elias looked at Ciel again.
“You made this?” “Mostly.” “From a broken courier core.” “Yes.” “Because you thought two broken halves might still talk to each other.” Ciel frowned.
“When you say it like that, it sounds stupid.” “It does.” “Thank you.” Elias picked up the second earring.
“Do they know?” “Myriad Scales?” Ciel asked.
“Yes.” Mara answered.
“No.” Elias was silent.
Then: “They will.” Mara’s smile did not change.
“Eventually.” “You don’t seem concerned.” “Eventually is one of a merchant’s favorite words.” The second pair belonged to Voss Appraisals.
Mara made that clear.
Very clear.
Elena still retained her original earring.
The paired original remained associated with Voss through Mara’s use and their testing arrangements.
But the new pair— both pieces— were Voss property.
One would ordinarily remain at the shop.
The second could travel with Mara.
Or Ciel.
Or a paying expedition.
Or a rental client.
Or anyone Mara trusted enough to carry something whose replacement depended on finding another unusually cooperative beast core.
Her dignity as a Seventh Layer cultivator had been restored.
She no longer needed to borrow Elena’s earring.
Ciel congratulated her.
Mara did not appreciate the tone.
Elias asked the obvious question.
“How many more?” Mara looked at him.
“More what?” “Pairs.” “None.” Elias frowned.
“We have no other cores?” “Two intact Green Feather Pigeon cores remain.” “Then—” “Unsuitable.” He stopped.
Mara continued: “Three cores.” “One useful seam.” “Which means?” “Which means we do not cut beast cores merely because Ciel feels optimistic.” Ciel looked offended.
Elias nodded.
“Agreed.” “Traitor.” “This is the first correct thing Senior Voss has said all afternoon.” Mara looked at him.
“Careful.” “Second correct thing.” Talia laughed.
The scarcity pleased Mara almost as much as it frustrated Ciel.
The Green Feather Fan could become volume.
More feathers.
More claws.
More ordinary Grade One materials.
More production.
Whisper Pairs were different.
Intact Wind cores were already expensive.
Appropriate internal growth seams were rarer.
Splitting could fail.
Even a successful split required careful refinement.
Mara could charge accordingly.
Ciel wanted more.
Mara wanted scarcity with a price attached.
They compromised by posting another Green Feather Pigeon commission.
At a slightly lower premium.
Mara called this market discipline.
Ciel called it stinginess.
Both descriptions were correct.
Three days later, Blue Port covered itself in blue notices.
One appeared outside Green Trail.
Another near the harbor.
One beside Red Lotus Pavilion.
Several in Commercial District.
One directly opposite Voss Appraisals.
Nora read it first.
Then Talia.
Then Elena.
Then Ciel.
Elias did not look up until someone said “artifact competition.” That worked immediately.
The notice bore the City Lord Palace seal.
At the top: ANNUAL BLUE PORT YOUNG CULTIVATORS GATHERING Registration open.
Six weeks until commencement.
Cultivators below twenty-five years of age from Blue Port and its surrounding territories, affiliated families, organizations, sect branches and subordinate settlements were eligible.
Three cultivation divisions.
Low-stage Qi Condensation.
Mid-stage Qi Condensation.
High-stage and Open Youth.
Three disciplines.
Battle.
Artifact Crafting.
Alchemy.
Ciel read Battle.
Then continued.
No interest.
She read Artifact Crafting.
Some interest.
Alchemy.
None.
Then she reached the ranking notice.
Top sixty-four battle participants in each qualifying division would enter the official annual Blue Port Youth Power Ranking.
Crafter Ranking.
Pill Ranking.
Names displayed publicly near City Lord Palace for the year.
Prestige.
Recruitment.
Rewards.
Recognition.
Ciel looked toward Elena.
“You should enter.” Elena was already smiling.
“Green Trail will probably make me.” “Good.” Talia tapped the Alchemy section.
“Master will make me.” Elias was reading the Crafting rules closely.
“Standardized materials.” “Time limit.” “Interesting.” Ciel stepped away from the notice.
Excellent.
Everyone had something to do.
Mara came downstairs.
She looked at the notice.
Then at Ciel.
“You’re entering Battle.” Ciel stared.
“No.” “I have already registered you.” Silence.
Elena covered her mouth.
Talia looked delighted.
Elias continued reading.
Ciel slowly turned.
“Master.” “Yes?” “I don’t fight.” “Exactly.” “That is generally a reason not to enter a tournament.” “It is a reason to enter one.” “I make earrings.” “And when someone tries to stab you?” “I leave.” Mara nodded.
“Excellent instinct.” “Then why—” “You have spent months hiding behind my counter.” “I work behind your counter.” “Hiding productively.” “That doesn’t improve the accusation.” Mara pointed toward the Battle section.
“You need experience.” “Against people trying to hit me?” “That is often where battle experience comes from.” Ciel looked toward Elena for support.
Elena shook her head.
“You’re on your own.” “Talia?” “I make pills.” “Elias?” He finally looked up.
“Senior Voss is correct.” Ciel stared.
“I regret hiring you.” “You did not hire me.” “I regret Master hiring you.” Mara smiled.
“Good.
Use the emotion during training.” The Battle rules were worse than Ciel expected.
Personal Grade One equipment permitted after inspection.
Pills and ordinary battle consumables permitted within restrictions.
No elder-sealed attacks.
No talismans or artifacts grossly exceeding the contestant’s division.
No intentionally lethal poisons.
No killing a surrendered opponent.
No attack after a referee halted the match.
Accidental serious injuries incurred during legitimate combat remained a participant risk.
Ciel read that line twice.
“Serious injuries?” Elena leaned over.
“It’s a fighting tournament.” “I thought there would be barriers.” “There will be.” “Then why serious injuries?” Elena looked at her.
“Because barriers don’t stop fists.” Ciel looked toward Mara.
“Can I withdraw?” “No.” “I haven’t even agreed.” “You did when you became my disciple.” “I don’t remember that clause.” “It was spiritual.” Ciel narrowed her eyes.
Mara smiled.
The preliminary round caught her attention.
All eligible low-stage Battle participants entered together.
One arena.
No bracket.
No individual matches.
The preliminary ended when only sixty-four qualifying contestants remained.
Ciel reread it.
“All of us?” Elena nodded.
“At once?” “Yes.” “That’s not a tournament.” “What is it?” “A riot.” Elena smiled.
“Now you’re understanding.” Temporary alliances were allowed.
So was hiding.
So was targeting stronger opponents.
So was targeting weaker ones.
So was attacking someone because they looked irritating.
The only important rule was survival within the competition restrictions.
After sixty-four remained: Ciel looked at the notice.
Then at Mara.
“You hate me.” “Occasionally.” Across Blue Port, Patriarch Ormond Vey received the same notice.
He read it once.
Then again.
A man from the Vey family stood beside the desk.
“Green Trail will enter her.” Ormond did not ask who.
“Certain?” “Almost.” “Why?” “Third Layer.” “Earthhorn Bow.” “Recent solo commissions.” “Her name is circulating among low-stage hunters.” The man’s mouth tightened.
“After Garran.” Ormond’s expression did not change.
That was the problem.
After Garran.
Every small success attached another insult to the Vey family.
Elena Ward had not disappeared.
She had become stronger.
Bought a real bow.
Reached Third Layer.
Started earning well.
And now— an annual gathering.
Public.
Ranked.
Watched.
Ormond set the notice down.
“Who is favored in Low Stage?” The man named several juniors.
Families.
Independent talents.
A Green Trail youth.
Two minor sect disciples.
Then: “Young Master Rowan Thorne.” Ormond looked up.
“Last year’s rank?” “Twelfth.” “Age?” “Twenty-three.” “Element?” “Wood.” Ormond’s finger stopped tapping.
“Weapon?” “Spear.” A pause.
“Interesting.” Rowan Thorne received the Vey family’s representative that evening.
He lived in a rented courtyard rather than a family estate.
His family had name.
Some resources.
Not enough resources.
That distinction mattered.
A long spear rested across a workbench.
Dark brown wood.
Natural silver lines ran through the shaft like frozen lightning.
A small spirit-metal spearhead remained unattached beside it.
The weapon was unfinished.
But alive enough that faint static whispered around the grain.
Wood.
Not ordinary Wood.
Lightning Wood.
Spring’s violent side.
Sudden growth.
Storm.
The instant between stillness and impact.
Wood expressed through Lightning.
The Vey representative placed a wooden case on the table.
Rowan opened it.
Inside: Conductive Spirit Copper.
Lightning Bark resin.
A Grade One beast tendon.
And three low-grade spirit stones.
His eyes sharpened.
“Generous.” “The Vey family values promising juniors.” Rowan smiled.
“Families usually value something in return.” “Naturally.” He closed the case.
“What?” “Elena Ward.” The smile remained.
“The archer?” “Yes.” “Garran Vey’s killer.” The representative’s expression did not change.
Rowan understood that he should not smile quite so much.
He corrected.
“What about her?” “Green Trail is expected to enter her in the Low-Stage Battle.” “They should.” “She has become one of their stronger juniors.” “So I’ve heard.” The representative looked toward the unfinished spear.
“Young Master Thorne.” “Yes?” “Are you confident you can leave her crippled during the Gathering?” Silence.
The static around the spear whispered.
Rowan leaned back.
“Not kill her.” “No.” “Why not?” “A corpse produces questions.” The representative’s voice remained calm.
“A cripple produces a result.” Rowan looked toward the case again.
“How crippled?” “She is an archer.” Understanding arrived.
“Right shoulder.” “Arm if possible.” “Qi pathways if the opportunity is clean.” Rowan tapped one finger on the table.
“The referees?” “Do not attack after the match is stopped.” “Obviously.” “Do not make your intention obvious.” “Also obvious.” “Then?” Rowan smiled.
“Then I don’t see a problem.” The Vey representative looked at the spear.
“You sound certain.” Rowan stood.
He lifted the unfinished shaft.
Lightning flickered faintly through the silver grain.
“Thanks to your family’s generosity, I’m certain this will finish refinement before the Gathering.” He rotated the shaft once.
Even incomplete, the motion produced a sharp crack through the air.
“Lightning is Wood.” The Vey representative nodded.
“Ward cultivates Earth.” Rowan’s smile widened.
“Wood controls Earth.” He set the spear down.
“Her defensive techniques, whatever they are, will be weakest against me.” “You haven’t seen her fight.” “I don’t need to.” “Confidence is expensive.” “So is this spear.” Rowan touched the case.
“And you’ve just paid for it.” The representative studied him.
“One more concern.” “What?” “If you do not encounter her.” Rowan’s smile faded slightly.
That was the one part no amount of arrogance could solve.
The preliminary was chaos.
The bracket was drawn under City Lord Palace supervision.
The Vey family was not foolish enough to attempt manipulating it.
Rowan shrugged.
“Then I qualify.” “So does she.” “And if we meet later…” Faint Lightning Qi crawled along his fingers.
“…I collect the rest of what your family promised.” The representative stood.
“Correct.” Rowan looked toward the spear.
Then toward the tournament notice on his wall.
“Don’t worry.” His voice carried the careless certainty of someone who had never yet been punished for possessing it.
“Against me, an Earth cultivator like her has no chance.” At Voss Appraisals, Elena sneezed.
Ciel looked over.
“What?” “Nothing.” Elena rubbed her nose.
“Someone is probably talking about me.” Mara said: “Superstition.” Ciel looked toward Mara.
“You practice Divination.” “That does not require me to endorse every stupid thing mortals say.” Elena shrugged.
Then returned to reading the Gathering rules.
Ciel looked at her own registration slip.
CIEL YI.
LOW-STAGE BATTLE.
Already stamped.
Official.
Irreversible unless she wanted Mara to lose face withdrawing her disciple after registration.
Ciel slowly looked toward her master.
Mara smiled without looking up.
Six weeks.
Ciel sighed.
Perhaps the second Whisper Pair had been the easy problem after all.