The next day, I was relieved to learn that after a day of heavy labor, our group was tasked with the simple duty of lunch service. We were given white aprons to wear over our uniforms, which I folded in my hand and carried over my right arm as we climbed toward the Western Gate of the Heavenly Demon Sect.
The same old man I had seen the other day still lay snoring just beyond the gate, arms sprawled over the grass field, his long, white hair a tangled mess. It looked like the group of guards had changed to a different team of Outer Sect disciples, but they, too, seemed rather afraid of that man.
Not a single spiritual energy line was near him. I wondered if that was a cue. It could be that my eyes had the fortune to lay upon a secret master, one who was either drunk or cultivating in his sleep. Such things shouldn't be new to this world. Some children's stories spoke about legends involving drunk sword masters and eccentric figures, after all.
Past the gate, I had the chance to witness the glory of the Central Peak in person. Tall buildings stretched forth beside us, story upon story built from hard stone, adorned with jade and golden trails. Streets slithered on and off, lined with restaurants, alchemy shops, enhancement forges, blacksmiths, and silk stores.
To my soul-brother's knowledge, the Central Peak didn't belong to any particular faction. It was common ground for all the disciples of the sect, and the sect had given permission to myriad clans of the affiliated disciples to do business here.
Considering the sect had thousands, if not tens of thousands, of disciples, I doubted whether anyone dabbling in the spiritual side of the world could find a better place to conduct their business.
For us laborers, though, hoping to buy a single item from these stores was a mere pipe dream. Even the most basic spiritual pills were going for ten or fifteen silvers, whereas the Alchemy Peak's official shop sold them for just five silvers. Why, then, did the disciples flock to the shops around me?
Because Alchemy Peak only had one store, and it was far from meeting the demand.
Moving on, I let my eyes wander around the stalls, displaying shining lockets and other miscellaneous items. My good soul-brother's grand fortune—nine silvers and some change—would be enough to barely buy one of those spiritual incenses or protective talismans. So I did the sensible thing and kept the coins sealed in the pocket of my robe.
We walked in single file. This time, I was accompanied by different faces, except for the old uncle who walked with his chin held high before the group. Shen Hai, or Uncle Hai as most called him, seemed to relish the bustling atmosphere of the Central Peak, nodding his greetings to multiple disciples passing by us, caring not whether he was getting disdainful looks from them.
Shaking my head, I trailed after the group. There had to be millions of those spiritual energy lines here, crisscrossing, fluttering about in masses, some clinging stubbornly to certain individuals. I noticed from their blue robes that they belonged to the Inner Sect, though there were others clad in the Outer Sect's black robes.
The spiritual energy lines seemed to be longing to become a part of them, trying over and over again to seep through their skin. Geniuses. I only saw a couple of them here in the marketplace of the Central Peak, but the spiritual energy lines weren't the only ones interested in them. No, everyone—from young disciples to old shop owners—trailed their passage with eager eyes, like a crowd watching a celebrity.
It didn't take us long to reach today's workplace, a giant domed building set a little away from the crowded marketplace. On its high entrance doors, made from hard wood and painted a vibrant green, was a grand depiction of the sect's symbol.
The eagle's eyes pierced into my soul, razor-like feathers biting deep into the snake coiled around its wings, drawing blood. The snake, however, seemed almost bored, uninterested whether it was shedding blood or scales, instead hissing toward the heavens, its green eyes full of venomous ambition.
I didn't know what it really meant, but it looked cool and imposing. Certainly not fitting for a dining hall, though, I had to admit.
Inside, rows of tables welcomed our little group as we passed by them, all placed deftly with measured gaps between them. As the only dining hall in the Central Peak, it was nowhere near big enough to serve all the disciples in the sect, but we wouldn't be hosting Outer Sect disciples here.
No, in today's service, we had the rare fortune of serving our mighty Inner Sect disciples, the cream of the crop, the monstrous talents from whom the sect expected grand deeds.
Taking our places behind the long serving table, we had to wait until another set of doors opened and a line of men filed inside. A plump, bulky group hauled giant cauldrons on their shoulders, their steps pounding on the soft wooden tiles, faces slick with sweat and twisted up in brutal focus.
"Old Hai, it's you again!" said the man heading the group, the fat under his chin wriggling as he set the giant cauldron on the ground with a loud bang. Wiping the sweat from his brows, he stepped closer and clapped Uncle Hai on the back, making him nearly double over the table. "How long has it been, eh? I must say, I missed that old, wrinkled face of yours!"
"O-Old Bai!" Shen Hai returned the greeting with a small pat on the man's wide shoulders, his face flushed red. He was probably still smarting from that enthusiastic pat. Taking a deep breath, he nodded toward us. "You know how it is. They don't give us the chance to pick. But I'm glad to see you as well. How are things in the Kitchens?"
"Same old, same old," the man said, gesturing for the line behind him to place the cauldrons near the table. Loud thumps echoed around the domed ceiling. Once they were done, he gave them a strict nod, then sighed a long breath. "You know what, I might retire soon. This whole sect business is weighing on me. I feel like my talents are being wasted here. Perhaps I'll go for a restaurant. What do you think? I might need the help of a few experienced hands."
"Me? Forget it," Shen Hai said, waving him off. "It's been more than twenty years that I've been working in this sect. They took me in when I was at my lowest, and I don't intend to bite the hand that fed me all these years."
"What? You're planning to work here until the day you die?"
"Why not? I don't have anywhere else to go."
"I just gave you an out. You're aware that I'm the best damned cook around this part of the continent, right? The best! People will bend over backward to work for me, yet you're refusing just because of an unreasonable and non-existing debt. They pay you what, twenty silvers? I'll triple it!"
Shen Hai smiled slightly as the plump man gestured wildly before him. "What's money to an old man like me? I value the virtues of fidelity and loyalty. Only in death shall I be free of this debt."
"You! You're a fool!" the plump man said, then looked toward us, snorted, and stormed off the dining hall, screaming at his men to follow him.
In the meantime, I didn't know whether to feel impressed or shocked at Shen Hai's words. There could only be two explanations for his reaction. One, the outside world was so cruel that he thought highly of the protection the sect provided him. Two, he didn't think he could adapt to life out there after having spent most of his life in this sect.
While it was true that during the Twelfth Season, living outside of a sect could become dangerous, there were dozens of cities with strong cultivators holding the fort during these times. So it was probably the second reason why he insisted on staying here.
I respected the man, though I would be lying if I said I envied his loyalty. There was a whole new world outside of this mountain, and I didn't plan to waste my second chance at life laboring for some cultivators. I would complete my five-year contract with them and hopefully move on to something else afterward.
For now, though, my main focus was to do the job I was given and do it well.
The following tense silence was broken by the disciples entering through the wide double doors. Mostly in groups of two and three, their blue robes shone with an ethereal light, illuminating the domed ceiling of the dining hall. They carried themselves with such majesty that, for a second, I felt like I was in the presence of royalty.
It didn't help to see thousands of spiritual energy lines dancing wildly around them.
The phrase "jade-skinned" came to mind when I saw the women. They were pale, paler than any man or woman I had ever seen before. It almost seemed like the sunlight could pass through their bodies. Well, not to that extent, but they looked… perfect. Inhuman. Some of them wore multi-colored jewelry with their blue robes, nail-sized rubies and emeralds sending streaks of light about them.
I could feel the cold tension gripping my insides as I watched them, spreading first from my gut and then to my fellow laborers. We were not used to this. I didn't think any mortal could hope to be ready to face such grandeur.
And to think we would serve food on trays to these people… What was the sect thinking? These people should've dined in great palaces and high mansions, not out here in the open like common laborers.
Shaking my head, I gathered my thoughts and told myself that there was nothing wrong with being a laborer. It was probably the lights and those lines that messed with my trail of thought, making me think I was somehow lesser than these people.
I clenched a ladle in my hand and raised it high, locking my eyes straight into the cauldron. Inside was a sort of chicken soup, with faint lines of spiritual energy wafting off in dreamy waves.
Of course. They would be getting spiritual meals from the sect. Why else would they bother coming here?
Dozens of Inner Sect disciples fell into a strict line before the serving table, talking and smiling at each other like a bunch of high school students. Some seemed aloof, as if dining here with others was something beneath them—perhaps a mortal deed unfit for those treading the Path of Immortality. Still, the majority of the group looked happy.
But those lines… Ugh. It felt like I had been dropped into a blizzard, the wind whistling and hacking through my insides, making my eyes sting with tears. I blinked and tried to steady myself, even as my eyes adjusted to the rolling hurricane of spiritual energy.
"I think I'll pass on the yearly tournament," came a voice, melodic and easy on my mind, pulling me away from all the distracting thoughts.
Looking up, I saw a young woman with deftly cut bangs, her blue robe smoothed to perfection. She turned the tray in her hand over and over again, her black eyes eagerly taking in the cauldrons.
"Pass on the tournament? Are you insane? This year, the Sect Master himself said they'll give the winner the Pseudo-Dao Fruit harvested from that secret realm a month ago. I've heard that with a single bite of it, stepping into the Core Formation Stage is child's play!" said another young woman, this one with long, brown hair that curled at the edges. She had a smile that, for some reason, sent chills down my arms.
"I think we have a dozen of them in the clan. I can simply ask Father for one," the first woman said, clearly unimpressed by this so-called treasure of the sect.
"Well, I'm not going to try and convince you. Less competition for me, I guess," said the other, as one of my fellow laborers placed some sort of meat on her tray.
"Did you hear about Lei Fang? They say he and Lou Zhao are going to settle their differences tomorrow in the Dao Exchange Hall."
"Oh?"
"Yes! They'll be fighting to the death, and they even got permission from the sect."
I worked in a practiced fashion, like a silent machine with the sole purpose of handing out food. I kept my eyes on the cauldron and refused to look up. It wasn't shocking to me that even Inner Sect disciples loved to gossip in this world. After all, my mother had told me once that gossip belonged to everyone; whether you were rich or poor didn't matter.
They talked and snickered about different topics—some involving scandals among young geniuses, others painting painfully detailed pictures of their love lives. There were also heated conversations about which spiritual beast to hunt next or what sort of mission they'd take on the weekend.
All in all, it wasn't too different from a high school or college cafeteria, except these people could probably murder entire generations of us with a sidelong glance.
It soon became clear to me that the chicken soup was quite popular. Nearly all the disciples' eyes glinted when they saw it, which forced me to work twice as hard as my fellow laborers. Trying to keep my eyes down and not look at those twisting lines coiled around their bodies wasn't easy, however, and I could already feel a budding headache throbbing at the base of my neck.
This gave me an opportunity to form a theory about these lines. From their number and their behavior around the disciples, it was easy to tell how adept some were at controlling them. While there were disciples who kept the spiritual energy lines close to their bodies, others had flailing lines dancing around them.
I wondered if what they called "aura" was basically the density of these lines. It certainly made sense, as neither I nor the other laborers had any spiritual energy coming near us.
Shaking my head, I continued my silent work, the ladle growing heavier in my hand. To be honest, the task got old far too quickly for me to feel anything other than mild boredom. Unlike the fieldwork, where we could bathe in the sun and feel the soil with our bare hands, here we were nothing more than a group of robots, simply serving. That must be why I felt no satisfaction, nor any sense of accomplishment building in my chest.
Hoping the other days would be different, I sneaked a glance at the meal line and allowed myself a smile as the last five disciples neared the table. I was just about to scoop a ladleful of soup when something peculiar gave me pause.
A young woman, one of the last five disciples, stood behind a tall, young man, her eyes downcast. She kept biting her nails and chewing on them, though she didn't seem aware of it. The young man had to drag her to the table when it was their turn, earning only a blank look from her.
But that wasn't what caught my attention. No, she had blue lines coming from around her stomach.
Up to this point, I had only seen those faint, almost-white translucent lines around cultivators. The same was true for the fields and the buildings around the marketplace as well. The lines usually just fluttered in the air, drawn to certain places and individuals.
But this woman… The lines were coming from inside her stomach, like she was some sort of spiritual beacon, and they were blue.
"Senior Sister," I blurted out suddenly, my eyes fixed on her loose robe. She and the young man both snapped their eyes to me.
"I…" I sputtered, looking left and right where my fellow laborers stood, aghast, as if I had done something horrible.
Gulping, I tried to keep silent, but for the life of me, I wanted to touch those blue lines. They pulled at me like a fish caught on a line, and I found myself drawn toward her, my right hand reaching out.
"There's something… different," I mumbled, shaking my head. "There's something different about your stomach."
"What did you say?!" the man beside her trembled visibly, his eyes darting around the hall where dozens of disciples stared at his sudden outburst. He then leaned closer to me, shaking, his eyes wide. "How can you tell?!"
"I… Tell… what?" I said, looking at him. What were those blue lines? And why was this man giving me such an intense, somehow grateful look? He seemed on the verge of tears.
"I told you we couldn't keep it a secret!!" the young woman behind him cried, stomping her left foot, tears streaming down her face. She gave us both one last look before dashing away from the table, her hair dancing wildly, and two hands clutching her belly.
"Thank you," the young man said to me, taking my hands in his. He then nodded toward the dining hall, his chest puffing proudly like a peacock against the stares of hundreds of disciples. With a loud hmph, he dashed after the young woman, out of the hall and into the streets.
I was stunned, the ladle frozen mid-air, my heart thumping in my chest.
What the hell just happened?
.......