Guan Meiyan

When the Widow of Tianbei Valley still walked the plains, the auctions hadn't been any more exciting than they were tonight. Outer Sect disciples had always sold wares that were barely fit for cultivators of worth. Goods made by the Inner Sect had always possessed some design flaw that took just a moment of thought to see.

But there was one key difference between this auction and the countless previous ones which affected Fairy Guan's mood greatly. When the Widow of Tianbei Valley was still the master of Sword Peak, Fairy Guan was her disciple in the Line of the Bells. Unruly behavior during official functions was to be expected from disciples, and Fairy Guan would take full advantage of that by cultivating during the auction. If anyone had ever been offended, they could take it up with the Widow.

But the Widow was gone now, and she had to set a good example for her students, even if it meant she was to be bored to tears.

"Our final auction from the Inner Sect is something quite special indeed. From the celebrated greenhouses of Earth Peak, our esteemed Daoist Liang has recreated the Tincture of Three Flowers.”

There was no reaction from the crowd. No one knew what that was.

“Tonight, for the first time in five generations, our worthy guests can see for themselves the mythical tonic that has opened the eyes of many of our forefathers to their primary meridians. The tincture will reveal ahead of time the severity of the tribulations they shall face to open them!"

Fairy Guan frowned.

Now, if this tincture was so valuable, what on earth would cause an Inner Disciple to sell it rather than drink it? Inner Disciples in the Ascending Sky had all formed their cores and stood on that dangerous precipice of Ignition. It was an enormous advantage to know which meridian would be the safest to open, relative to a particular disciple's cultivation and scripture. Why would Daoist Liang put something like this up for sale?

Fairy Guan exchanged a glance with Peak Master Ling. They'd both come to similar conclusions.

"Starting bid of two hundred spirit stones!"

Now that was a sum that was absurd - that was more than half the spirit stones in reserve at the Sect's pavilion.

"Alternatively, the seller will entertain offers of trade under the category of Scripture related to medication, with a bias towards poisons."

Now, the game was obvious. Feng's little student had no intention of selling her precious tincture for anything less than a scripture that would supplement her cultivation.

"What is she looking for?" asked Sect Master Su, in a tone of voice that implied he would do Feng's student a favor.

Feng sighed, still playing with his mustache. "Liang has cultivated a scripture which derives lineage from the Five Original Poisons, and wishes to find another scripture of the same quality. She believes she can reconstruct parts of the original text."

Su scoffed. "Without a doubt, such a scripture is a generational treasure handed down through her forefathers. How many Venerates from the Far Fields did she think would be in attendance tonight? Did you encourage this unrealistic behavior from your student, Feng Shui?"

"I told her that she would be better served drinking the tincture on the Sword Platform instead of trying to trade it for something of such value."

No one offered to buy the tincture for any spirit stones, but four different voices in the crowd claimed to have worthwhile scriptures.

“It is an admirable sort of desperation,” said Master Ling, who disagreed with the conversation. “A cultivator makes his or her own luck. Poison scriptures have not been commonly cultivated in any of the Great Sects since the dynasty has changed hands. It is a matter of context. ‘The finest piece of jade teaches fewer lessons than most books and grows less rice than most soil.’”

The three turned to Fairy Guan, expecting an opinion about Liang’s efforts.

Other things worried her more. “I would prefer it if she failed to find anything of value.”

The auctioneer’s voice boomed through the room. "As with successful bids, those with offers involving further negotiation should remain seated until after the auction. Private rooms will be arranged for such considerations in Sky Peak. An inner disciple will be ready to lead you to the room in question."

Master Feng frowned. “Daoist Liang may not be your student, but she is still a member of our sect. Explain yourself.”

“Where do scriptures come from?” asked Fairy Guan, looking at the hole in the ceiling that lead to the sky.

Feng shook his head. “Ask a pair of Daoists about an auction and you’ll receive a speech regarding the value of jade from one, and a question about the origin of scriptures from the other.”

Su chuckled lightly. “Is it not clear to you, Brother Shui? Piecing together a scripture that will still be incomplete if done perfectly is quite dangerous. And worse yet, if you consulted every cultivator of worth on the continent you might still fail to find someone who has any valuable advice regarding poisons. Even if you include despicable specimens like the Beggar of Bei’an.”

A silence descended amongst them as Ling and Feng looked at Fairy Guan nervously.

“My apologies,” said Sect Master Su. “I should not have brought him up.”

Fairy Guan said nothing.

Her bubbling anger was interrupted by the shout of Pavilion Master Xi. “And that concludes the auction involving creations of the Inner Sect! We will now move onto treasures that have been brought into the sect from our adventurous Daoists!”

"Regardless of any reservations, I for one still admire the effort," said Ling, steering the conversation back to less painful topics as quickly as he could. "I'll make sure your student isn't scammed, or pressured into an uneven trade," he decided.

Feng gave a light shrug. "Do what you want. It's not too much of a concern. The Tincture of Three Flowers is costly and time consuming to produce, but it is an exact process that we now have a recipe for. Getting scammed is a lesson in itself. Better at an auction in the safety of our sect than out in the world where it could be a matter of life and death.”

Ling’s frown returned along with an unhappy nod. “She is your student,” he said. “I won’t interfere.”

“Our first batch of treasures are those which even our esteemed Pavilion staff cannot quite ascertain the value of! We’ll be moving through these as quickly as we can. All starting bids for these items will be a single spirit stone! Perhaps our discerning guests will find a lock to which only they hold the key.”

As Pavilion Master Xi spoke, four or five inner disciples rapidly carried out various odds and ends. There was the usual selection of poorly fashioned jewelry coated in exotic qi, pine boxes that Fairy Guan knew contained scrolls too old to translate easily and too mundane to put effort into, weapons that had some strange quirks of design or long forgotten purpose.

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Amongst the pile of what was effectively trash, the star of the show was a Yin Fire lamp that cycled qi many times faster than the ones that illuminated the inner peaks of the Ascending Sky - but produced no light.

It was auctioned first.

“Proof of concept, a Yin Fire device, excavated from the Northern Continent from the western side of Chongji Glacier. A permanent source of warmth that produces no light, but operates more efficiently than any calculations-”

Fairy Guan held back a groan. Midnight had come and gone. By the time the auction was over, it would be time to ring the bells for dawn. The trash being carted off now by people who clearly didn’t need it was simply the Pavilion Master’s yearly excuse to prove that he was a shrewd businessman.

“Item number seventeen, a sword that cannot be drawn from its scabbard, brought back by a Core Disciple! We’re not sure if it’s even a sword!”

Ling snorted. “I actually made something like that a few thousand years ago. A weapon with a formation branded into its steel that made it impossible to draw if the intent was to use it as a weapon.”

“Interesting,” said Sect Master Su, who sounded completely disinterested.

“How did the formation work?” asked Feng, who didn’t actually want to know.

“I’ve forgotten,” Ling decided, even though he clearly hadn’t.

Fairy Guan wished she was more like the departed Widow of Tianbei, who would have cared about such things, or would always pretend well enough.

“One spirit stone!” came a voice from the crowd. It was Daoist Chow, one of her new outer disciples.

One thing was immediately clear - the girl had never been to an auction before. For something like this, the proper course of action would be to put in a bid when the Pavilion Master counted it off. Judging from the mood of the crowd, the general sentiment was that this was an attempt at humor. Why would anyone want a sword that couldn’t be drawn? Bidding early would put more eyes onto the weapon.

Fairy Guan examined the faces of Daoist Chow and Daoist Ji beside her. Another mistake. There was a clear determination etched on the girl’s face and a look of deep relief on her companion’s. This was something they really wanted.

The mood of the crowd shifted. It was inevitable. This weapon had become valuable - not because anyone could divine its nature. In fact, Fairy Guan was sure that it wasn’t valuable. Perhaps it was something sentimental that her new disciples had lost in their journey to the sect which arrived at the auction by coincidence.

“Two spirit stones!” The man who had bid was seated on the far left of the Sword Platform - a merchant that didn’t quite count as an honored guest. Fairy Guan felt a spike of immediate disgust. The man’s cultivation was barely existent. Had Daoist Chow been an Inner Disciple, the man wouldn’t have dared.

“Heaven-defying talent,” said Master Ling softly. “But the unchecked impulse of youth. It is to be expected.”

“Heaven-defying talent?” echoed Sect Master Su. The man had missed the Lantern Lighting, as usual. “They’re outer disciples in the early stages of Core Formation,” he said.

“I’ll say this now - try not to be alarmed, but-” started Master Feng with a deep breath.

“How old do you think they are?” Master Ling cut in jovially, tired of the other man’s theatrics.

“Heaven-defying,” Su repeated, rolling the words sardonically. “Less than a century between them?”

“Not even close,” said Ling. “How old were you when you entered Core Formation? Three decades? Four?”

“Thirty two.” “Thirty seven.” Fairy Guan knew Ling had meant Su, but she answered anyway, because Su was very competitive and because she was angry with him and because she had, in fact, been younger.

Su scowled at her.

“They’re as old as they look,” said Master Feng. “Seventeen years apiece. And they’re acting their age.”

Daoist Chow had folded her arms and was now glaring at the merchant. Daoist Ji was whispering frantically into the ear of their third member - the core disciple from the Clear Skies in those ghastly yellow robes. Daoist Ji was speaking softly enough that Fairy Guan doubted anyone but the people sitting beside her could hear him.

“It’s really important to her. I’ll pay you back, with any amount of interest you like, if it’s going to cause problems,” whispered Daoist Ji.

Of course. They were refugees after all - they wouldn’t have any money.

“A few spirit stones is far beneath the notice of this Chan Changshou,” the man whispered back. “I would be irritated if you even tried to pay me back.”

What interested Fairy Guan had nothing to do with what was said between the two - rather, it was the circumstance of their relationship. Everything from the way they spoke to one another, to their facial expressions and their movements implied that they were close friends. It wouldn’t have surprised her to see it from Daoist Ji - he was a child. Perhaps Daoist Chan was also young.

“Three spirit stones,” Daoist Chan called out. He made direct eye contact with the merchant who’d bid for the sword. The merchant looked away immediately.

“Did you check them personally?” Su finally asked.

Master Feng nodded.

“That is quite promising,” said Su, who was now scanning the two outer disciples in question pensively. “The future of the sect is bright.”

Fairy Guan had known the Sect Master for a very long time and she was sure that he already hated the pair.

“This Daoist wonders about the significance of the sword our new disciples are trying so desperately to buy,” mused Su. He’d turned his gaze to the sword.

Master Ling exchanged glances with Fairy Guan.

Ling spoke. “It’s rather easy to tell,” he said. “Look at the girl. It’s clearly a memento from someone dear to her.” He paused. “They are refugees from the South. Perhaps an heirloom.”

“I don’t think so,” said Sect Master Su. “Look at the pommel.”

What was the point? It was a sword that couldn’t be drawn, who would care? Why would she consider the pommel? What was the upside to looking at-

Fairy Guan stopped her thoughts - no, these were not her thoughts - short and reached for severslicecutsplit-

The Sword looked at the pommel.

“Incredible,” Ling whispered.

The pommel on the sword was a piece of stone shaped into an octagon. Within the center was a circle that formed a symbol universally claimed by any Daoist - Yinyangtaiji. Duality. And what a work of artistry and craftsmanship. Yin and Yang were detailed by light and dark stone so flawlessly jointed that it looked painted.

Enclosing the symbol were lines scored into the stone which came in two varieties, solid - unbroken, exact and split - where the central third of the line hadn’t been cut into the stone, leaving a pair of evenly spaced segments flanking that empty center.

There were eight sets of three lines, each one parallel to the eight edges of the pommel. Every possible combination and arrangement of three solid or split lines were represented by a side. Bagua - the eight trigrams.

As she examined it longer, however, she realized that this was not the standard harmonious configuration of the eight trigrams. The expected sets were placed in different spots compared to the normal representation of the bagua, seen in hundreds of pieces of art and furniture littering the sect.

This was a formation which required nothing but a clever rearrangement of the universal symbol of the Dao.

The yinyangtaiji was not centered vertically either - the swirl that divided light and dark was pointed not at the tip of the sword but between two trigrams which were usually placed nowhere near one another on the symbol. Split, split, split - earth and split, solid, split - water. But there were secondary meanings to these trigrams. Earth could be understood as escape. Water could be understood as forcing.

Fairy Guan would have to read the configuration of the rest of the trigrams to know with certainty, but her instincts screamed out the purpose of the formation loud and clear. Hidden in plain sight.

Had she lacked Principle, Fairy Guan would have been literally incapable of looking at the pommel.

The blade was clearly a red herring - in fact, there was likely no blade at all. It was the pommel that was special.

Fairy Guan opened her mouth to describe the nature of the formation, how just a single look at it had changed the way she would consider formations hereafter, to wonder aloud about the creator of the pommel but Peak Master Feng spoke first.

“That’s not jointed stone,” he said. His hands shook. “Whoever made this, they were responsible for the shape of the pommel and the order of the carved trigrams. The pommel is a single piece of jade. The taiji formed naturally.”

“Four spirit stones,” proclaimed Master Su.

The feeling of awe and inspiration enveloping Fairy Guan shattered immediately.

No matter how special this pommel was, it didn’t belong to the Sect Master. It was truly shocking, how he managed to discover new reasons for her to detest him.