Calling it an art was stretching it a little bit. There were no hard boundaries on what constituted an art and what didn’t. They ranged from the mundane to the spectacular. He was aware of an art that aided in diarrhea (on second thought, that one would’ve been quite useful) and an art that allowed you to eat, absorb and assimilate anything you could get your hands on.

He needed it for a particular procedure: getting rid of his soul lantern. All soul lanterns weren’t the same but they had to perform the same functions which meant there were similarities.

If you snuffed one out, its bindee had to die. It had to be linked to their cultivation base, representing how strong they were. It also had to reflect on some level, the user’s health or their life force. His main concern was the bridge connecting him to it.

He closed his eyes and recalled the disciple acceptance ceremony. The tests were different but with a basic emphasis on general endurance, strength, stamina and writing/reading skills. If you were a mortal, it wasn’t easy to send your child to a sect. It was a right reserved for the more affluent clans and families.

Snow Gem did have a family in the mortal world and…Musnuf railed in that line of thought. He didn’t want to think about it and didn’t need to think about it. It would be a distraction.

The last step of the ceremony was etched into Snow Gem’s memories. She was a little shorter, pudgier with longer hair. Each disciple was called upto one of the three elders. A sliding door separated them from the elder’s. The shouts of cries for help and the bawling disciples leaving the room terrified her.

They were going in three at a time. She felt a little light-headed when the older rank servant’s guided them into the room.They were instructed to place their hands inside a floating lantern. Snow Gem was hesitant but the elder’s kind smile and nod pressured her into ignoring her instinctive fear of fire. It was ghost green just like the dragon flame. It flared up her arm and she was about to pull it out but the elder grabbed her arm. He had to keep her still. It was a terrifying experience for a child and she started crying.

The flame extended all the way upto her face but there wasn’t pain. She was still terrified of it covering her vision and blinding her but all of a sudden it snuffed out. She glanced down at the lantern and a small wisp was burning. The elder patted her head, “You’re a disciple of our sect now. Don’t worry.” He shooed her away. “Go meet your parents, the mortal coil is not for you anymore.”

His thoughts turned to her mortal family again but he didn’t want to think about it.

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He started breaking down the memory. It relied on a sub-technique of the Green Dragon Mantra. It reminded him of his guess about the mantra’s relation to the soul.

He sketched out a few ideas but he was just going around in a circle. He understood the Green Dragon Mantra quite well but he needed something else. A lever that allowed him to pry open its aspect of soul arts.

Why don’t I cultivate? He decided to set aside five hundred spirit stones for cultivation. The essence potions would be useful as well but he wanted to preserve them for now.

The movement from the sixth stage to the seventh wasn’t going to be easy. At this moment, the essence floating around his core was gaseous, impure and scattered. He didn’t just have to pull it in, he had to bring it together, compress it into liquid form.

That wasn’t going to be easy. It took him a while to get into the flow. His mind was being interrupted by off-shoots of ideas he was having about the art he was trying to make. However, he let them go and brought his attention back to the task at hand.

He had to bring in essence, pull it closer and closer and closer. It just wouldn’t work. He kept on going at it, until a droplet formed with a pop. The process got much easier after that.

Time melted away like a candle under the sun. It was an euphoric process and he was drawn out of it at the first kernels of dawn. He clenched his fist, got up and stretched. He estimated that he was half-way through the sixth stage. He could feel cup-full of essence sitting in his stomach.

Should’ve cultivated the green dragon mantra as well. He got up and decided to head down to Elder Wind’s abode. He wouldn’t be copying many recipes until he finished his art. He had limited space at the end of the day.

He walked into the Elder’s abode. It was falling into disarray, especially the cauldron courtyard. He cleaned off some gunk, from the floor, grabbed some ingredients and got down to it.

He liked this pace, where he wasn’t running around terrified at the prospect of being demoted. He cultivated a few essence recovery potions, bottled them and laid back down. He was an expert in this one potion at least.

He heard a yawn behind him and flinched. “You need to stop doing that!”

Elder Wind didn’t mind, “So, how was your test?”

“I won.” He raised his brow. “I got first place.”

He smiled and ruffled his hair. “Good for you.”

Musnuf considered the dilemma he was considering at the moment and decided to ask him. He just had to skirt around its eventual use. How should I broach this?

“In that library, do you have any technique’s other than the green dragon mantra?”