Chapter Ninety-Nine: A Life Outside Training
By the time Yun Che and Lin Xia finally left Goldriver Central Library, the city had long since surrendered to night.
The library, unfortunately, had not.
Its lamps still glowed behind tall windows, formation lights continued moving through the archive halls, and scholars wandered between shelves with the pale, hollow expressions of people who had forgotten that sleep existed. Goldriver Central Library never truly closed. The night staff simply replaced the day staff, while formations maintained the lights, climate and security until morning.
Yun Che stopped at the bottom of the library steps and looked back.
Lin Xia noticed immediately.
"No."
Yun Che had not even spoken.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking loudly."
"I could stay."
"No."
"It's open all night."
"I am aware."
"I have civic work in the morning anyway. I could study here until seven, eat something, report at eight, complete the assignment and come back."
Lin Xia stared at him.
Yun Che made the mistake of continuing.
"We've barely covered the introductory elemental texts. I still need to compare the lightning circulation models, find better references on magnetic fields, look through the bloodline indexes again, and there were three books on Ki regeneration that—"
"Yun Che."
He stopped.
Lin Xia folded her arms.
"This is not how living works."
He frowned.
"I'm learning."
"I know."
"This may be the best research opportunity I've had since leaving Mistforge."
"I know."
"Then—"
"What exactly do you intend to accomplish during these months?"
Yun Che opened his mouth.
Lin Xia continued before he could answer.
"Learn everything in the library?"
"No."
"Master every rune?"
"No."
"Develop every transformation?"
"No."
"Build every weapon you've thought of?"
Yun Che hesitated.
"Eventually."
"That was not the question."
He sighed.
Lin Xia's expression softened, but her voice remained firm.
"You nearly died. Then you spent weeks terrified of everything around you. Now you've found something that makes you excited again, and I'm happy about that. But if you turn that excitement into another reason to never sleep, never rest and never see anyone, then what have you actually improved?"
Yun Che looked away.
People moved along the canal road below them. Lanterns reflected across the water, stretching into trembling lines of gold and red.
Lin Xia stepped beside him.
"You have months in Goldriver. What will you have at the end of them if all you do is study?"
Yun Che did not answer.
"More knowledge," she said. "Better techniques. Maybe stronger equipment. And several friends wondering whether you still remember they exist."
That struck harder than Yun Che expected.
"You have Amon. Mirage. Whisper. Lei. Jin Wei. Me. You still need to train with Myriad Arsenal. You want another rifle. You owe more money than you like admitting. You have community service every day. You apparently promised a ten-year-old girl you would help examine her bloodline."
"That one wasn't planned."
"I know. That's why I'm mentioning it."
Yun Che rubbed his forehead.
Lin Xia smiled faintly.
"Moderation."
"I dislike that word."
"Most sensible people do."
Yun Che looked back toward the glowing library entrance.
There were thousands of books inside.
Knowledge he had never possessed.
Answers to questions he had spent years guessing at.
For a few hours, the world had felt wonderfully simple. Read. Learn. Test. Improve.
There were no wyverns in books.
No political consequences.
No angry sects.
No terror.
Only problems that could be understood if he studied long enough.
Perhaps that was why leaving felt so difficult.
Yun Che breathed out slowly.
"Fine."
Lin Xia blinked.
"That easy?"
"I'm capable of listening."
"You usually require more arguments."
"I am growing."
"Mirage said that earlier too."
Yun Che grimaced.
They began walking.
He glanced back only twice.
The list in Yun Che's head was still absurdly long.
He needed to practice seriously with the Myriad Arsenal rather than merely confirm that the plates obeyed him.
He needed to rebuild Mountain Piercer—or create something better than Mountain Piercer.
That required money.
Before buying expensive materials, he needed to repay at least some of his debt because owing people large amounts of money produced a discomfort in him that monsters somehow did not.
He needed to continue elemental training.
He needed to test partial transformation eventually.
He needed to improve his basic rune knowledge.
He needed to train Amon, Mirage and Whisper.
He needed to spend time with them that did not involve being attacked.
He needed to spend time with his friends.
And apparently he needed to learn how to do all of that without sleeping four hours a night and calling it efficient.
Lin Xia was probably right.
That remained irritating.
Dinner at the Azure Wolf Consortium had already begun by the time they returned.
Jin Wei was waiting in one of the private dining rooms used by Consortium family and guests, though "waiting" perhaps gave the wrong impression. Three documents lay beside his plate, another was spread underneath his elbow, and he had somehow managed to eat while marking figures in the margins.
Yun Che sat across from him.
"You look busy."
Jin Wei looked up.
"You look like you lost a battle with a library."
Lin Xia sat beside Yun Che.
"He wanted to sleep there."
Jin Wei paused.
"Why?"
"It stays open."
"That was his argument."
Jin Wei stared at Yun Che.
"You're becoming frightening."
"I've fought a hundred-meter wyvern."
"Not physically frightening. Socially."
Yun Che began serving himself food.
"What happened with your father?"
That immediately changed Jin Wei's expression.
He leaned back.
"He refused."
Yun Che stopped.
Lin Xia looked over.
"The toy business?"
"He doesn't think it's worth Consortium resources right now."
Jin Wei explained everything: the naval expansion, the shipyards, the other major investments, the risk of entering a new market, the volatility, the lower overall profits compared with shipping or heavy industry.
Then he placed a sealed financial note on the table.
"He did give me starting capital."
Yun Che examined it.
"That's not small."
"No. But that's it."
Jin Wei tapped the note.
"No workshops. No Consortium employees. No manufacturing priority. No industrial support. No guaranteed distribution network. Father gave me the money and told me to walk on my own."
Yun Che considered that.
"That sounds like him."
"It was terrifying."
"You argued with him."
"Yes."
"Voluntarily?"
"Don't make it sound like I challenged a dragon."
Amon, eating in the courtyard beyond the open doors, raised his head.
He would survive the dragon more easily.
Jin Wei ignored him.
Yun Che looked at the funding note again.
"I'll support you."
Jin Wei shook his head immediately.
"No."
Yun Che frowned.
"I didn't mean I was going to take over."
"I know."
"Then?"
"I'll pay for your work."
"You don't need to."
"Yes, I do."
Jin Wei pointed at him with his chopsticks.
"You are already in debt. I am not building my first business by making my indebted friend work for free."
"I'm helping you."
"And I'll pay you."
"Jin Wei—"
"No."
His tone was unusually serious.
That stopped Yun Che.
Jin Wei continued.
"Father gave me enough money. Not enough to waste, but enough to launch something properly if I'm careful. I have savings too. I can pay for prototypes, materials and whatever design work I need from you."
"What if the money runs low?"
"Then I'll get a job."
Yun Che stared at him.
Lin Xia stopped eating.
Jin Wei noticed both reactions.
"What?"
"You?" Yun Che asked.
"Yes, me."
"A job."
"I know what the word means."
"Doing what?"
"Something that pays."
That was when Yun Che realized how serious the situation really was.
Jin Wei liked money.
Jin Wei liked making money.
Jin Wei liked talking about money.
Jin Wei did not generally talk about taking ordinary employment to cover employee salaries.
Jin Wei leaned forward.
"New businesses don't earn immediately. Even if we launch successfully, production comes first. Wages come first. Shop rent comes first. Materials come first. Advertising comes first. Then customers hopefully appear."
He gave Yun Che a pointed look.
"I will not be the person who hires workers and then tells them they can't be paid because my toys didn't sell quickly enough."
Yun Che's expression softened.
"Good."
"I know."
Jin Wei unfolded another document.
"I'm going to research further before committing anything. I need manufacturing estimates, production speed, materials, likely price levels and customer groups."
He looked at Lin Xia.
"I'll need your help too."
She pointed at herself.
"With what?"
"Clothing."
Lin Xia immediately understood.
"The figures."
"And decorations. Fabric designs. Accessories. Banners. Stage appearance. Some figures should have removable outfits."
She considered it.
"That could become complicated."
"Which means expensive?"
"Which means interesting."
Jin Wei smiled.
"I knew I liked you."
Yun Che looked between them.
"Am I becoming the least artistic person here?"
"Yes," both replied.
He frowned.
Jin Wei returned to the documents.
"A week, maybe two, should be enough to settle the basics. Find a shop. Find small workshop space. Establish the first production system. Hire a few people."
He pointed toward Yun Che.
"And we are definitely not having you manufacture every single figure yourself."
"I wasn't planning to."
"You made the prototypes yourself."
"Prototypes are different."
"Good."
Jin Wei took another bite of food and continued speaking around it.
"We'll need molds. Standardized joints. Quality controls. A basic figure line first. Nothing too complicated. Maybe three or four characters."
"Which characters?" Lin Xia asked.
"Still researching."
"Famous people?"
"Some. Legends are safer. Famous living cultivators become legal problems."
Yun Che nodded.
"Unless you get permission."
"Exactly. Eventually I want official collaborations. Sect champions. Famous hunters. Royal figures. Arena champions."
He leaned back, imagining it.
"Limited editions. Tournament releases. Festival releases. Collector versions with special materials."
His voice had changed.
The worry remained.
But excitement had begun pushing through it.
Yun Che noticed.
Jin Wei complained constantly about how difficult the project would be. He talked about rent, employees, suppliers, contracts and the possibility of failure.
Yet his eyes were brighter than Yun Che had seen them in days.
This was not his father's caravan.
Not his grandfather's Consortium.
Not an assignment someone had given him.
For the first time, Jin Wei was preparing to put something into the world because he wanted it there.
Yun Che smiled slightly.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You did the expression."
"What expression?"
"The annoying one where you know something."
"I'll help."
Jin Wei grinned.
"Then we are going to make an unreasonable amount of money."
Lin Xia shook her head.
"Five minutes ago you said you might need another job."
"Temporary difficulties should never interfere with ambition."
That sounded much more like Jin Wei.
While the three of them were discussing production expenses, movable joints and whether a miniature monster should be able to lose its limbs during play without traumatizing children, Lei Zhenyu had discovered football.
This was a development nobody had expected.
Least of all Lei.
He had intended to watch for perhaps half an hour.
That had been several hours ago.
Goldriver's main football stadium was still active long after sunset, bright formation lamps illuminating the enormous field while spectators drifted through the surrounding training grounds. The sport had spread through the city with remarkable speed. Six major teams had formed in only a few years, supported by merchants, districts and wealthy sponsors.
There were two primary competitive categories.
Mortal Realm.
Foundation Realm.
Ordinary games existed as well, particularly among children and recreational players, but organized cultivator football had become the spectacle people paid to watch.
Lei Zhenyu sat in the stands watching the Foundation Realm team practice.
He had initially assumed football was merely entertainment.
That opinion had lasted perhaps six minutes.
The players were limited by strict rules. No attacking opponents. No offensive elemental techniques. No flying. No destroying the field. Ki reinforcement was permitted within defined limits, movement techniques were permitted, and controlled elemental support could be used so long as it affected only the player's own movement or the ball within regulation.
Within those restrictions, footwork became extraordinary.
Players accelerated, stopped, pivoted and changed direction at speeds that would have torn an ordinary person's knees apart. Defenders predicted body position from hips and shoulders. Attackers created false movements before redirecting momentum. Some controlled the ball without looking at it because their senses covered the field.
Lei watched closely.
His childhood games had been rather limited.
Martial arts.
Hunting.
Chess.
One might argue that martial arts and hunting were not games.
Nobody in his sect had told him that.
When he wanted to relax, Lei played chess, read or practiced swordsmanship slightly less intensely than usual.
His life's ambition had always been simple to describe and nearly impossible to accomplish.
Sword Saint.
The title was not merely given to someone powerful who happened to use a sword.
A Sword Saint stood at the pinnacle of swordsmanship itself.
Technique.
Understanding.
Adaptation.
Control.
A swordsman whose blade had been tested against countless paths and had learned how to answer them.
Above even that legendary title stood something rarer.
Sword King.
The undefeated sovereign of the sword.
A title earned not through proclamation but through an era in which no swordsman could overcome the one who carried it.
Lei Zhenyu wanted that summit.
And reaching it meant that merely studying swordsmen would never be enough.
He needed to understand fists.
Spears.
Archery.
Beasts.
Movement arts.
Formations.
Unusual bloodlines.
Every method an opponent might use to create distance, break rhythm, redirect force or control terrain.
And, apparently, football.
A player on the field suddenly accelerated.
Wind wrapped around his ankles.
He did not move straight toward the ball.
Instead, he stepped left.
The defender shifted.
The player rotated his hip, planted one foot, used a controlled burst of wind to reduce resistance and shot right so quickly that the defender's response came half a heartbeat late.
Lei's eyes narrowed.
Interesting.
The movement had nothing to do with swordsmanship.
Which meant it had everything to do with swordsmanship.
The practice ended shortly afterward.
Lei stood.
He walked down toward the field.
Several players noticed him approaching, particularly because the Azure Thunder Roc Sect insignia on his clothing was not difficult to recognize.
One of them stepped forward.
He was a broad-shouldered man perhaps in his late twenties, wearing the blue-and-white uniform of the Goldriver Galehawks, one of the city's six principal teams.
"You need something?"
Lei inclined his head.
"I would like to train with you."
The man blinked.
"Football?"
"Yes."
"Do you play?"
"No."
That earned several laughs from the nearby players.
Lei remained completely serious.
The captain studied him.
"You're from the Azure Thunder Roc Sect."
"Lei Zhenyu."
That name produced a different reaction.
One of the younger players stared.
"The sword disciple?"
Lei nodded.
The captain's interest sharpened.
"I'm Han Qiren. Captain."
Lei returned the greeting.
Han Qiren was a Fourth Stage Foundation Realm cultivator.
Wind affinity.
Lei had recognized it before speaking to him.
It was visible in the man's steps.
His weight never seemed completely committed to the ground. Every shift carried a subtle adjustment of air pressure, reducing drag and allowing rapid transitions without the obvious bursts common among less refined wind users.
Lei pointed toward the field.
"Your movement is useful."
Han Qiren laughed.
"That's the first time anyone from a sword sect has tried to compliment our football."
"I wasn't complimenting the football."
Several players laughed again.
Lei continued.
"The footwork. Direction changes. Momentum control. Body feints. Spatial awareness."
Han Qiren's smile faded into genuine interest.
"You want to use football to improve your sword movement."
"Yes."
"And what do we get?"
Lei considered that.
"Speed."
Han Qiren raised an eyebrow.
"Show me."
Lei stepped onto the field.
Lightning flickered around his feet.
Not a full combat burst.
Just enough.
He moved.
For a moment, there was only a crack of displaced air.
Lei appeared twenty meters away.
Then changed direction instantly.
Lightning Steps.
Again.
Left.
Forward.
Backward.
A sharp diagonal.
The movements were not designed for football. They were sword movements—the footwork of a swordsman who needed to enter striking distance, avoid an attack and reposition before the opponent understood the first exchange.
Several players became visibly interested.
Han Qiren crossed his arms.
"Second Stage Foundation?"
"Yes."
"You're fast for Second Stage."
"I know."
Han Qiren laughed.
At least the boy was honest.
He tossed Lei a ball.
Lei caught it.
"No hands," Han Qiren said.
Lei looked down at the ball.
"I know that rule."
"Good start."
One player called from behind him.
"Does he know any others?"
"No."
More laughter.
Lei ignored it.
Han Qiren considered him for another moment.
"Fine. You can join practice when we're training movement and speed. You help our players against faster opponents, we'll teach you actual footwork instead of whatever lightning lunacy that was."
Lei frowned.
"My footwork is effective."
"For fighting."
"Yes."
"This isn't fighting."
Lei looked at the field.
Then at the players.
Then back at Han Qiren.
"That is why I am here."
The captain smiled.
"Fair enough."
He pointed toward a line of markers.
"Come tomorrow evening."
Lei nodded.
Han Qiren added, "And bring shoes that aren't meant for stabbing people."
Lei looked down at his boots.
"They've never stabbed anyone."
"That is not reassuring."
Lei did not understand why everyone laughed.
Still, when he finally left the stadium that night, his mind was already reorganizing what he had seen.
Wind-assisted pivoting.
False weight shifts.
Short acceleration rather than constant speed.
Reading multiple moving bodies simultaneously.
Creating space.
Denying space.
Drawing an opponent toward one direction before entering another.
Football would not make him a Sword Saint.
But perhaps one tiny piece of what he learned here would eventually become part of the swordsmanship that did.
And for the first time in quite a while, Lei Zhenyu had spent several hours practicing something without actually holding a sword.
He was not yet certain whether that counted as progress.