Chapter Ninety-Six: Things That Grow
At precisely eight the next morning, Yun Che reported to Goldriver City Hall and discovered that his first day of punishment involved fixing a swing.
He had expected something slightly more dramatic. Perhaps repairing weapons for the city guard, rebuilding a damaged canal gate, or spending five hours under the suspicious eye of an official who expected him to steal the nails. Instead, after checking his identification tablet, the clerk handed him a work order and directed him toward the Golden Haven Children's Home, one of several orphanages maintained throughout Goldriver. His assignment was ordinary monthly maintenance: inspect the grounds, repair anything damaged, report anything that required replacement, and leave the place in better condition than he found it.
Yun Che had been prepared to dislike community service.
He found it considerably harder when his punishment involved children.
Golden Haven stood in one of the quieter residential districts, well away from the warehouses and crowded commercial canals. Yun Che had expected something institutional and depressing. What he found instead was an enormous three-storey building surrounding a grassy courtyard, with dormitories, classrooms, kitchens, workshops and gardens. Bright murals covered sections of the walls. There was a small library, a training courtyard for older children, and enough open space for several dozen children to run around without colliding with one another every ten seconds.
The playground made him stop.
It was almost a copy of the one he had designed in Mistforge.
Not exactly. The materials were better and several pieces had been changed, but the structure was unmistakable: climbing frames, swings, balance beams, slides and the rotating platform he had once spent far too long making safe enough that children could not fling one another into walls.
Yun Che stared at it.
One of the workers noticed.
"Popular design," the man explained. "Came out of Mistforge a few years ago."
"I know."
"You've seen one?"
Yun Che picked up his toolbox.
"Something like that."
He decided not to explain.
The work itself was almost embarrassingly peaceful. He replaced two worn bearings in the rotating platform, straightened the support beneath a slide, reinforced a climbing frame and replaced several links in a swing chain. He checked every joint afterward because children possessed a remarkable talent for discovering weaknesses in things that adults considered perfectly safe.
He also acquired an audience.
At first there were three.
Then seven.
By the time Yun Che was repairing the second swing, twelve children had gathered around him at what they had apparently decided was a safe distance.
Yun Che looked over his shoulder.
Twelve heads immediately turned elsewhere.
He returned to hammering.
Thirty seconds later, he looked again.
They were staring.
"Do I have something on my face?"
Several children giggled.
A boy of perhaps six pointed at Amon, who was lying beneath a nearby tree.
"Is that a dragon?"
Amon opened one eye.
"Drake," Yun Che corrected.
"What's the difference?"
"A dragon would be considerably larger."
"Can he breathe fire?"
"Ice."
"Can I touch him?"
Amon's eye opened fully.
Yun Che considered the question.
"Ask him."
The boy stared.
"How?"
"Politely."
The child approached Amon with the solemn courage of someone marching toward certain death.
"Mr. Drake, can I touch you?"
Amon stared at him.
Then lowered his head.
Within five minutes, the mighty Iceback Glacier Drake had seven children climbing over him.
I have made an error, Amon informed Yun Che.
Yun Che grinned.
You made it yourself.
There was something wonderfully uncomplicated about children. Yun Che had spent weeks watching strangers' hands, studying cultivators for killing intent, calculating exits whenever he entered unfamiliar buildings and waking at sounds that would once have meant nothing to him. Here, a little girl was demanding that he repair her wooden cart because one wheel squeaked, while another boy wanted to know whether blacksmiths could make swords "that cut mountains in half."
None of them wanted anything from him beyond an answer, a repaired toy or permission to touch Amon.
His mind understood them.
Children were safe.
For five hours, Yun Che worked without once thinking about the Stormcrest Thunder Tiger.
The manager brought him lunch when he finished.
Grandfather Wei Shun, as every child seemed to call him, was a thin old man with silver hair, deeply wrinkled eyes and the patient manner of someone who had spent decades answering questions beginning with why. He brought Yun Che flatbread, meat, vegetables and chilled fruit water and sat with him beneath the shade of the courtyard veranda.
"You worked harder than the order required," Wei Shun observed.
"I was already there."
"An unusual attitude toward compulsory service."
Yun Che shrugged and drank.
His gaze wandered across the courtyard. Two teachers were collecting the youngest children for lunch. Older children were heading toward classrooms.
"How many live here?"
"One hundred and eighty-three currently."
Yun Che nearly choked.
"Here?"
"This is one of the larger homes."
"There are more?"
"Eleven major children's homes sponsored directly by the city administration. Several smaller private ones as well."
Yun Che looked around again.
Maintaining something like this could not be cheap.
Wei Shun seemed to understand his thoughts.
"Lord Cao pays much of the expense. His businesses provide additional sponsorship, and citizens donate."
"Everyone here praises that man."
"Then perhaps he has given them reasons to."
Fair enough.
Yun Che watched an older girl leading several younger children toward the dining hall.
"Do many get adopted?"
"Some. We encourage good families to adopt, but we don't build our system around hoping somebody comes to rescue them."
Yun Che liked that answer.
Wei Shun continued, "A child who remains here receives an education. At the proper age, we examine interests and aptitudes. Cultivation, scholarship, accounting, trades, medicine, commerce, administration, farming—whatever gives them a reasonable future. We arrange apprenticeships and employment where possible."
"So they aren't simply released when they're old enough."
The old man's expression suggested that the idea offended him.
"A child does not cease needing guidance because a calendar says so."
He pointed toward the older students.
"Some have remarkable potential. Lord Cao's organizations recruit from the homes regularly. A few have entered his personal guard, administration and business offices. One girl raised here now manages three of his shipping companies."
Yun Che smiled.
That sounded much better than pity.
It was investment.
Give children somewhere safe to grow, educate them properly, and let them become useful members of society.
It was an idea worth remembering.
Yun Che had already left through the front gate when he saw the girl in the garden.
He stopped.
She looked about ten. A white sundress reached below her knees, and a wide straw hat shaded a small face framed by unusually long platinum hair whose ends gradually changed to soft green. Her eyes were pale blue. There was dirt on both her hands and one knee, suggesting she had been gardening for some time.
None of that was what stopped him.
A plant beside her was dying.
Yun Che could see it plainly: leaves brown at the edges, stem sagging, several branches already nearly dead.
The girl placed both hands around its stem.
Green-gold light gathered between her fingers.
The leaves rose.
Yun Che's eyes narrowed.
Brown retreated into green. The stem straightened. A damaged branch repaired itself slowly, new tissue spreading over the split. Within perhaps twenty seconds, a plant that should have taken weeks to recover looked healthy.
Yun Che got off Amon.
The girl noticed him approaching.
"Hello, Mr. Blacksmith."
"Hello."
"You fixed our swings."
"I did."
She smiled.
Yun Che pointed at the plant.
"What did you just do?"
Her smile faded into confusion.
"I helped it."
"How?"
She looked at the plant as though the answer were obvious.
"It was sick."
Yun Che crouched beside her.
"I understand that part. How did you heal it?"
The girl shrugged.
"I put Ki into it."
"Can everyone here do that?"
"No."
"Who taught you?"
"Nobody."
That was the answer Yun Che had expected.
"What's your name?"
"Liora."
"I'm Yun Che."
"I know."
Of course she did. He had spent the morning surrounded by children.
Yun Che pointed toward a healthy flowering plant.
"Can you do something to that?"
Liora placed her fingers against its stem. Green-gold light appeared again.
Nothing happened for several seconds.
Then the plant grew.
Yun Che watched in fascination as the stem lengthened several centimeters. Two leaves unfolded. A closed bud matured and slowly opened.
Liora pulled her hand away, looking slightly tired.
"There."
"You know that's extraordinary, don't you?"
She blinked.
"It's only a flower."
"That's not the important part."
"I can't make a forest."
"You're ten."
That seemed to confuse her further.
Yun Che sat down on his heels.
"Normal cultivators cannot simply give life to plants, Liora. They can feed them certain types of Ki. Wood cultivators can manipulate them. People can use techniques to accelerate growth. What you're doing naturally, without a technique, at the Mortal Realm, is different."
"Is it?"
"Yes."
Her eyes brightened slightly.
Yun Che thought through what he knew. Plant vitality. Healing. Yang-aligned life energy. At her cultivation level, producing an effect that strong naturally almost certainly indicated a bloodline or innate constitution.
There was one place particularly suited to it.
"Have you heard of the Verdant Life Sanctuary?"
Liora shook her head.
"It's an Ancient Sect specializing in medicine, life cultivation and biological arts. Their greatest cultivators can manipulate entire forests. Some specialize in healing. Some cultivate plants that would normally take centuries to mature."
Liora stared at him.
"You think I could go there?"
"I think you should eventually try."
The excitement appeared immediately.
Then disappeared.
"People like me don't enter Ancient Sects."
"People with talent enter Ancient Sects."
"I'm not that talented."
Yun Che pointed toward the plant.
"You just repaired living tissue with your hands."
"It's a plant."
"Do you think plants aren't alive?"
Liora frowned.
Yun Che held out his hand.
"Try me."
"What?"
"Small cut."
He pricked the tip of one finger with a clean tool.
Liora looked horrified.
"Why did you do that?"
"For science."
"That's stupid."
Yun Che stared at her.
That sounded disturbingly like Lin Xia.
"Probably. Heal it."
Liora reluctantly touched his finger.
The same green-gold light appeared.
Yun Che felt warmth rather than ordinary Ki. The tiny wound tingled.
Then closed.
His expression changed.
Liora stared at his finger too.
"I've done that before."
"On people?"
"When someone gets scratched."
"And nobody thought this was important?"
"Grandfather Wei says I might become a healer."
"He is correct."
Yun Che stood.
"I'll help you test it properly."
Liora's eyes widened.
"You will?"
"During my free time. Nothing dangerous. We'll measure how much Ki different effects require, what you can heal, what you can't, and whether your ability works differently on plants, animals and people. If the results are what I think they are, I'll help you prepare an application to the Verdant Sanctum."
"Really?"
"Really."
Yun Che removed a simple storage bracelet from his belongings and adjusted the runes until the output was safe for someone at her level.
"Use this."
Liora took it carefully.
"What does it do?"
"Stores Ki. Fill it slowly today. Don't drain yourself. Tomorrow we'll test what happens when you have a larger reserve available."
Her fingers closed around it as though he had handed her treasure.
Yun Che smiled.
His first day of punishment had gone rather better than expected.
On the way back, Yun Che rode Amon through one of Goldriver's commercial streets while considering a completely different problem.
Money.
Specifically, his lack of it.
His modular weapon system—Myriad Arsenal—had consumed an absurd quantity of resources. He had managed roughly two thousand five hundred plates, and even that had required loans, favors, recycled equipment and ores that he would once have considered too expensive to touch.
Jin Wei's father's offer therefore had advantages.
Designer.
Researcher.
Think tank.
Not factory labor.
Yun Che could tolerate that.
The problem was freedom.
I'll negotiate, he decided.
He would accept assignments and send designs and reports by flying courier when traveling. If something required his physical presence, they could arrange it beforehand. He would even accept a lower salary in exchange for independence.
Debt bothered him more than employment did.
He had spent his previous life avoiding long-term financial obligations whenever possible. Being indebted to Jin Wei's family made his skin itch.
Amon turned into another market street.
Yun Che's thoughts stopped.
There was a girl standing beside a street-food stall.
For perhaps two seconds, Yun Che simply stared.
He had seen beautiful women before. Cultivation made physical beauty considerably more common than it had been on Earth.
This was different.
She was impossible to miss.
The young woman looked to be in her late teens, tall and graceful, with the striking presence of someone who seemed to belong at the center of whatever room—or street—she happened to occupy. Her skin was a rich, deep brown, smooth and warm against the pale colors of her clothes. Long snow-white hair fell past her shoulders in thick, flowing waves, brilliant enough to stand out even beneath Goldriver's daylight. It framed a beautiful face with high cheekbones, elegant features, and full lips curved in faint amusement.
But her eyes caught Yun Che most strongly.
They were an extraordinary clear blue, almost unnaturally bright against her dark complexion—blue like the open sky after a storm. There was intelligence in them, but also an effortless confidence that made Yun Che realize, rather belatedly, that she had never once looked nervous about the men surrounding her.
Her clothing only strengthened the impression. She wore an elegant white outfit trimmed in gold and pale blue, fashionable rather than martial, fitted neatly at the waist before flowing loosely around her legs. A short mantle rested over her shoulders, its fabric shifting gently in the breeze, while gold earrings and bracelets provided understated decoration. White heeled boots clicked softly against the wet stone street as she moved. In one hand rested a luxurious folding fan of white and gold.
For a moment, Yun Che simply stared.
There was something almost regal about her—white hair, dark skin, brilliant blue eyes, and the quiet authority of a woman who looked as though thunderclouds ought to gather when she became annoyed.
She was, without question, the most beautiful woman Yun Che could remember seeing across either of his lives.
Yun Che's brain briefly stopped doing useful things.
Oh.
Amon continued walking.
You are staring.
I know.
Why?
Keep walking.
Unfortunately, several other young men had noticed her as well.
One leaned against the stall with what he presumably believed was an irresistible smile.
"Young lady, you seem unfamiliar with this district. Perhaps I could show you around."
The girl examined a skewer of candied fruit.
"No, thank you."
The man blinked.
His friend stepped forward.
"We know the best places in Goldriver. Why waste the afternoon alone? Come have a drink with us."
"No."
This refusal was even shorter.
A third laughed.
"You're making us look bad."
The girl finally turned from the stall.
"I assure you, I had no involvement in that."
Yun Che's eyebrows rose.
A few people nearby laughed.
The young man's face reddened.
"Don't be arrogant."
The girl opened her fan.
"How unfortunate."
"What?"
She sighed dramatically and placed the back of one hand against her forehead.
"To be the unluckiest, most beautiful girl in the world. I merely wish to buy sweets, and everywhere I go, men mistake my existence for an invitation."
Yun Che nearly laughed.
The first young man did not.
"We asked politely."
"And I declined politely."
One of them stepped closer.
"Come on. One drink."
"No."
He reached toward her wrist.
Yun Che's amusement disappeared.
He was off Amon before thinking about it.
"She said no."
The men turned.
One looked Yun Che up and down.
"This doesn't concern you."
"It became my concern when four people decided one person's answer didn't matter."
"We're only talking."
"Then you don't need to touch her."
The white-haired girl glanced toward Yun Che.
Her ocean-blue eyes lingered on him for a moment.
Then she smiled.
Not nervously.
Amusedly.
Yun Che noticed.
That was when he realized something was wrong.
She wasn't afraid.
Not even slightly.
The young man nearest her scowled and reached again.
The girl's fan moved.
Just once.
A gentle sweep through the air.
Yun Che's danger sense screamed.
Lines of blue-white light appeared beneath the men's feet.
Formation marks spread across the street so quickly that Yun Che barely followed their construction. One circle became three. Three interlocked into nine. Symbols flashed between them.
The men froze.
One had his hand still extended.
"What—?"
He tried to move.
Nothing happened.
Another gathered Ki.
The formation brightened.
His knees immediately buckled.
"Don't," the girl advised pleasantly. "That makes it tighter."
Yun Che stared at the ground.
She had formed that with a fan?
The girl closed it with a soft snap.
Then she turned toward Yun Che and smiled warmly.
"Thank you for trying."
Yun Che looked from her to the trapped men.
"Trying."
"It is nice knowing chivalrous people still exist."
She stepped gracefully around one immobilized youth.
"But you should learn to judge situations better before rushing in."
Yun Che's eyes narrowed.
He examined her again.
Not her face this time.
Her stance.
Her breathing.
Her complete lack of tension.
The fan.
The formation beneath four cultivators.
And the fact that his danger sense, which had been nearly silent when confronting the men, was now giving him the uncomfortable suggestion that she was by far the most dangerous thing on the street.
Yun Che sighed.
"Yes."
The girl's smile widened.
"I've been receiving that advice rather often lately."