Chapter 15: Half a Disciple, Whole a Step
The morning mist curled low over the pines, cool and damp against Lin Tian's skin. He carried himself quickly down the stone path, Codex passages still echoing in his mind, prepared to kneel at the cauldron once more.
Before he could raise his hand to knock, the hut door slid aside with a soft scrape. Elder Yun He stood within, his sleeves neat, his posture straight, eyes sharper than usual. For once, the cauldron behind him was cold, its surface dark instead of glowing.
"Stop," Yun He said, voice calm yet weighted.
Lin Tian froze and bowed quickly. "Elder."
The elder studied him for a long breath, then flicked his sleeve. A small pouch sailed through the air and landed in Lin Tian's hands. The faint clink of spirit stones rang like tiny bells.
Lin Tian's throat tightened. He clutched the pouch, then bowed lower, hesitating. "Elder… I—how can I accept this? You have already given me more than I can ever repay. The hundred thousand spirit stones… that alone…"
Yun He's gaze hardened, cutting him off. "Foolish boy. That hundred thousand was never mine to give. It was compensation from the Organization for the recipe. And that recipe did not come from me. Do you understand? That wealth belongs to you, not to me."
He stepped forward, his presence pressing faintly like heat from a banked fire. "But this pouch—" he tapped it with a finger "—comes from me. It is not from Organization or Sect. It is my acknowledgment that you stand halfway to being my disciple. You have memory, you have hands. You lack only flame. Until then, you are half my disciple."
The words struck deeper than any gift. Lin Tian's breath caught, his eyes burning. Slowly, he sank to his knees, pressing his forehead to the cold stone. Once, twice, thrice—kowtow.
"Master," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I will not fail your trust."
For a heartbeat, Yun He's face softened, a faint flicker of warmth breaking through his usual sternness. But it passed quickly, hidden beneath calm.
"Rise," Yun He said. "Do not mistake sentiment for completion. When you refine your first pill and pass the Organization's exam, then this bond will be sealed fully. Until then, carry my name lightly, and work as though you have none."
Lin Tian bowed deeply once more, gratitude blazing like fire in his chest. "Yes, Master."
Yun He turned back toward the hut, his tone steady again. "Good. Take the stones, go to the market. Buy what you need—cauldron, herbs, pills. Do not flaunt wealth. If anyone questions, say you act on my errand. And return only when you stand at Qi Refinement."
The door shut behind him, leaving Lin Tian clutching the pouch as though it weighed more than the mountain itself. For the first time, he carried not only spirit stones, but a name—a bond.
---
Lin Tian stood outside the hut for a long moment, the pouch heavy in his hands. His knees still tingled from the kowtows, his chest still trembled with the echo of Yun He's words.
Half-disciple.
Half… but still disciple.
He clenched the pouch tighter, the faint jingle of stones almost unreal in his ears.
That was when the Map stirred. Its voice slid into his mind, dry and slow, but not mocking as usual.
"Hah. So, the hermit bound you. Not fully, not yet—but enough to place his mark upon you. Half-disciple… a rare thing, boy. Few masters bother with halves. They either claim, or discard."
Lin Tian blinked. "You… don't sound angry."
The Map chuckled low, a sound like grinding stone. "Angry? No. This one… he surprises even me. He claimed your light for himself, yet here he is, placing stones and pouch in your hands. Not all masters return what they take. Some would have buried you beneath their shadow."
Lin Tian's throat tightened. "So you're saying… he's worthy?"
The Map's silence lingered for a breath, before it spoke again.
"Worthy? Hmph. Worthy is a blade's edge. Today, he shields you, arms you, names you. That deserves acknowledgment. For once, I will give him this: he does not bind you with chains, but with chance. Respect him, yes. But remember…"
Its tone sharpened, iron beneath ember.
"…the bond of disciple and master is fire. It warms, but it burns. As long as you grow, he will shield you. The day you outshine him… only Heaven knows if he will still stand at your side."
Lin Tian's heart thudded, unease creeping in—but so too did gratitude. He bowed his head toward the hut again, silently, before tucking the pouch close to his chest.
"I will not waste it," he whispered. "Not what he gave me. Not what you've given me."
The Map gave a low hum, almost approving. "Good, boy. Now, to the market. You have wealth, a name, and half a master's trust. Time to see what you can build from it."
Lin Tian straightened, the first light of dawn brushing the mist with pale gold. His path led downward toward the sect's gates, toward the bustling market waiting below.
---
The mountain mist clung to the path as Lin Tian descended from the elder's hut, the pouch of spirit stones hidden deep within his robe. Each step felt heavier than the last, not from the weight of coin, but from the words Yun He had left him with.
Half-disciple… until I refine pills.
The thought burned steady in his chest, equal parts hope and pressure.
As he passed beneath a leaning pine, the Map's voice unfurled in his mind, smooth and sly.
"So… to the market. A boy with coin, a half-master's seal, and the hunger of fire in his belly. Tell me, will you waste your days polishing jade slips, or will you walk ahead of the sheep?"
Lin Tian frowned faintly. What do you mean?
The Map gave a dry chuckle.
"Your elder said you must reach Qi Refinement before touching the cauldron. Hah. Sheep's law. For you, that is no chain. You already walk with Primordial Qi. Scan Ember Spark Control, boy, and the flame will answer you even now. You could refine before setting foot in their 'refinement stage.'"
Lin Tian hesitated, his hand brushing the hidden jade slip in his sleeve. But… wouldn't that expose me? If Elder Yun He sees me refining too early—
"He will see what you show him," the Map interrupted smoothly. "Refining pills alone requires more than a slip. You need flame, cauldron, herbs, recipes. Go to the market and gather them. Then, when you are alone… test yourself. If you fail, none will know. If you succeed…"
The voice turned low, heavy with promise.
"…then the world will see you sooner than even your elder dreamed."
Lin Tian's steps slowed. His heart beat faster at the thought—the image of fire swirling in a cauldron beneath his hands, of red-gold pills rising from the flame.
What should I buy then?
The Map chuckled again, more thoughtful this time.
"First—a cauldron. Not a master's treasure, but one steady enough to hold your fire. Ironwood bronze, at least, or it will crack under Primordial heat."
"Second—recipes. The elder gave you none beyond Body Tempering. For practice, seek low-tier pills, common yet vital. Wound-cleansing, marrow-soothing, minor recovery. Through them, you learn balance before law."
"Third—herbs and materials. Not crates upon crates, just enough for you to test. Failures will come, so better to burn weeds than treasure."
"Fourth—pills for your own marrow. Qi Refinement will not wait for theory. Strengthen your body even as your hands practice."
"And lastly—manuals. Cultivation paths, martial arts. Do not buy them for their worth, but for their structure. Each one, once scanned, feeds the flame. Every scrap is a step toward building the path that belongs to you alone."
Lin Tian's fingers tightened around the pouch hidden in his robe. Each item the Map listed rang with weight, with purpose.
"…That's a lot," he whispered under his breath.
"Hah," the Map scoffed. "You carry a fortune in stones and points, boy. You could buy half the stalls if you wished. But remember—greed draws eyes sharper than blades. Your elder warned you well: keep your wealth shadowed. If they ask, you buy at his command. Nothing more."
Lin Tian nodded faintly, breath misting in the morning air.
The path wound downward, and already he could hear the distant hum of the sect's market—the clatter of carts, the call of merchants, the murmur of disciples trading herbs and jade slips beneath banners of red and green.
Ahead, the world awaited.
Behind, the Map whispered again.
"Choose wisely, boy. A single cauldron may crack, a single manual may waste—but if you weave them together with me, you will hold fire in your hand before the sect even names you alchemist."
---
The sect's market sprawled like a hive, stalls overflowing with herbs, jade slips, and talismans that glowed faintly in the morning sun. Yet above the noise and haggling, one structure dominated the street—tall and regal, its crimson wood lacquered to a mirror's shine, golden phoenix motifs inlaid along the beams.
The Phoenix Pavilion.
Merchants bowed when they passed its threshold, disciples straightened their robes, and even nobles lowered their voices within its halls. It was here that rare herbs, cauldrons, secret manuals, and treasures flowed like water—for a price.
Lin Tian tightened his grip on the pouch hidden under his sleeve. Elder Yun He's warning echoed in his mind.
Buy what is needed, and nothing more. Do not reveal what you carry.
The Pavilion's great doors swung open without a sound, admitting him into a vast hall lit by floating jade lanterns. Counters of polished stone lined either side, each manned by attendants in elegant uniforms. Crystal jars gleamed with herbs sealed fresh, shelves bore neatly stacked manuals, and talismans hummed faintly with suppressed energy.
He stepped forward quietly, head lowered, though he could feel eyes flicking toward him. A servant boy in patched robes did not belong in this place.
"Welcome to Phoenix Pavilion," an attendant greeted him smoothly from behind a counter, though her brows rose ever so slightly. "What service do you require?"
Lin Tian bowed, keeping his voice steady.
"I wish to meet Miss Mu Qinyi."
The attendant blinked, clearly startled. She looked him up and down, hesitation flashing in her eyes before she forced a polite smile back onto her lips.
"…Miss Mu Qinyi is not in the habit of meeting strangers, young sir. Do you hold writ of appointment?"
Lin Tian swallowed, his hands tightening. "Elder Yun He of the Verdant Pine Sect sent me. I—"
Before he could finish, the air in the hall shifted.
From behind a silk screen at the far side of the room, a presence stirred—a man rising slowly from a high-backed chair. His hair was streaked silver at the temples, though his bearing was unbent, his robes deep crimson embroidered with golden phoenixes that seemed almost to flicker under the lantern light.
The attendants all bowed deeply, the sudden hush in the room carrying weight.
"Pavilion Lord," they whispered.
Lin Tian froze. The Pavilion Lord himself?
The man's gaze was sharp as cold steel, yet calm as still water. His eyes fixed on Lin Tian, steady and measuring.
"A boy comes, asking for my daughter," he said, his voice smooth but heavy with authority. "How curious."
The attendant paled, bowing low, but dared not speak further.
Lin Tian's throat tightened. His first instinct was to bow, but before he could move, the Map's dry laughter uncoiled in his thoughts.
"Hah. Careful, boy. That is Mu Qinyi's sire—the master of this Pavilion. He doesn't see with eyes alone. Every word, every twitch, he'll weigh as though you're goods on his counter. Choose wrongly, and you'll be stripped of more than coin."
---
The Pavilion Lord's eyes sharpened, glinting beneath the soft jade lantern light. His voice carried not anger, but cool authority, heavy enough to still the attendants' breathing.
"My daughter does not entertain men. Not disciples, not merchants, not even nobles' sons. Why, then, does a servant boy come seeking her by name?"
The hall seemed to shrink under the weight of his words. The attendants kept their gazes lowered, though several shot Lin Tian furtive glances. A servant daring to seek the Pavilion's jewel? It was unthinkable.
Lin Tian stiffened, lowering his head into a deep bow. His fingers curled against his sleeve, steadying his breath before he spoke.
"Junior Lin Tian, servant of Verdant Pine Sect. I… came under the instruction of Elder Yun He, who guides me now."
The Pavilion Lord's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward slightly, as if testing the name against memory. "Lin Tian… Yun He's servant?"
His voice grew colder, suspicion threading into his tone. "A mere servant dares seek out Mu Qinyi by name? Hmph. You court trouble with boldness, boy."
But before the pressure could deepen, something flickered across the Pavilion Lord's face. His gaze shifted, weighing Lin Tian more carefully.
"…Lin Tian," he repeated, slower this time. His brows drew together, recognition dawning.
"My daughter spoke of you."
The attendants stirred faintly, but no one dared speak. The Pavilion Lord's eyes, sharp as a hawk's, did not leave Lin Tian's bowed figure.
"She told me of the Golden Pavilion incident," he continued, his tone edged with curiosity now. "A servant boy who stood firm against insult, who brought ruin to a scheming merchant with a single herb. And Elder Yun He—yes, I recall the name now. A recluse, but his reputation runs quiet among merchants who deal in pills. Rare, but steady. Reliable."
The Pavilion Lord's expression eased only slightly, his tone shifting from suspicion to measured interest.
"So. You are that Lin Tian."
Lin Tian swallowed, his heart thudding, but he held his bow. "Yes, Pavilion Lord. That was me."
For a long moment, silence reigned. Then, at last, the Pavilion Lord gave a faint hum.
"…Very well. Since you come with Yun He's name, and my daughter has already spoken of you, I will allow this meeting. But understand—" His gaze sharpened again, voice cold and precise. "Qinyi is no ordinary girl. She does not befriend lightly, and she does not tolerate deception. If you waste her time, you will not walk out of these doors unscathed."
His sleeve flicked sharply, dismissing the attendant. "Go. Fetch the young miss."
The attendant bowed low, hurrying toward the staircase that led deeper into the Pavilion.
Lin Tian remained bowed, his chest tightening with the weight of the Pavilion Lord's scrutiny.
At the edge of his mind, the Map's dry whisper coiled.
"Hah. Look at that. Already, the ripples you made at the Golden Pavilion reach further than you know. The old fox weighs you like coin—curious if you are counterfeit, or the start of treasure. Tread carefully, boy. Every word here is investment… or debt."