Rejecting the Grandmaster

As soon as morning classes ended the next day, a boy in an academy uniform appeared at the working students' dormitory door, blocking the way.

"Is Nan Feng here? The Grandmaster wants you to come to his office."

Xiao Wu was squatting on the threshold, tying her shoelaces with a piece of pickled vegetable she had swiped from the dining hall in her mouth. She looked up. "Grandmaster? Which Grandmaster?"

The boy ignored her and jerked his chin at Nan Feng.

"The one who registered at the gate yesterday, Teacher Yu Xiaogang. The office at the easternmost end of the second floor in the teaching building. Get there as soon as you can."

With that, he turned and left, walking as fast as if something were chasing him.

Xiao Wu took the pickled vegetable out of her mouth and tilted her head at Nan Feng. "Do you know him?"

"No."

Nan Feng closed the textbook he had only just read two pages of and rose from his bed. His movements were unhurried but steady.

He remembered Tang San being called out the night before. Tang San had said nothing that morning, but there had been something more in the way he looked at Nan Feng. Nan Feng could read that look: Tang San had heard something from Yu Xiaogang, and it had made him pay closer attention to Nan Feng.

"Then what did you do?" Xiao Wu pressed.

"Nothing. Maybe he just wants to talk."

Nan Feng put on his coat and glanced back at Xiao Wu as he reached the door.

"Did you save me any breakfast?"

"I saved two steamed buns. If you don't come soon, Tang San will eat them."

Nan Feng left the dormitory and followed the path toward the teaching building.

Plenty of trees grew in the courtyard. Their early-spring branches were still bare, jutting out beneath the gray-white daylight. A few working students were sweeping fallen leaves from the path, and some stepped aside when they saw him coming.

Nan Feng walked past without looking to either side, his pace neither hurried nor slow.

He ran through what he knew of Yu Xiaogang in his head.

A good-for-nothing expelled from the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan twenty years ago. His Martial Soul was the useless Luo Sanpao, and his Soul Power was stuck at rank twenty-nine, unable to rise any further.

He had spent twenty years studying Martial Soul Theory, copying vast amounts of data from the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan's secret manuscripts. He had pieced them together into a theoretical framework that sounded complete.

In the original novel, he had taught this to Tang San and helped him solve the problem of cultivating Twin Martial Souls.

But Nan Feng knew better than anyone that this theory had a fatal flaw.

He reached the office at the easternmost end of the teaching building's second floor. The door stood ajar, and several patches of paint had peeled off it, exposing the gray-white wood underneath.

Nan Feng raised a hand and knocked twice on the door.

"Come in."

He pushed open the door, and an air of bookishness washed over him.

The office was small. Bookshelves covered one wall, packed with various editions of Soul Beast illustrated guides and Martial Soul research manuscripts. Several booklets lay open on the desk, their page corners badly curled and their margins densely covered with notes.

Yu Xiaogang sat behind the desk, polishing his round-framed glasses with a piece of velvet. He put them back on and gestured for Nan Feng to take the chair opposite him.

"Sit."

Nan Feng sat down. The hardwood chair was uncomfortably hard.

He glanced at the booklet lying open on the desk. Its cover read "Ten Core Competencies of Martial Soul, Volume Three," in handwriting so neat it was almost rigid.

Yu Xiaogang closed the booklet and pushed it aside, then folded his hands on the desk and looked at Nan Feng through his lenses. His eyes were intent in the morning light, more direct and less guarded than when he had looked at Tang San beneath the colonnade the night before.

"Nan Feng. Bronze Tower Martial Soul, innate rank eight."

He spoke in a measured voice.

"Since the branch academy was established in Nuoding City, I've seen seventeen working students with Tool Martial Souls. Hammers, sickles, hoes, cleavers, rolling pins, and one was a millstone. Care to guess what became of them?"

Nan Feng said nothing.

Yu Xiaogang didn't wait for an answer and continued.

"Of those seventeen, nine dropped out to farm before they even broke through rank ten. The other eight finally managed to break through rank ten and hunt for Soul Rings, but once their Soul Power reached around rank fifteen, they couldn't advance any further. The best of them now runs a smithy in Suotuo City. His Soul Power stopped at rank nineteen, and he hunted three Soul Rings without gaining a single offensive Soul Skill."

"Tool Martial Souls make far too little use of Soul Power. Do you understand what I mean?"

Nan Feng nodded.

"Your Bronze Tower is a little different."

Yu Xiaogang turned an open notebook on the desk around and pushed it in front of Nan Feng. It was covered in densely written figures. Nan Feng glanced at it and picked out a few key phrases: average Soul Power conversion rate for Tool Martial Souls, directions for Soul Skill development, and control and support classifications.

Yu Xiaogang tapped one line of figures with his finger.

"In battle, Tool Martial Souls consume thirty-seven percent more Soul Power than Beast Martial Souls, yet their attack power is only fifty-one percent that of Beast Martial Souls. Those are averages from twenty years of data."

"If your Bronze Tower follows the conventional path, your best choice when hunting for your first ring would be a Hundred-Year Soul Beast, to obtain a control or support Soul Skill. Follow that path, and you can still go a few steps further as a Soul Master."

He paused when he finished, his gaze resting on Nan Feng's face as though waiting for a reaction.

Nan Feng's expression didn't change. He looked up from the notebook and met Yu Xiaogang's gaze again, his calm almost excessive.

"Grandmaster, where did you get this data?"

"Twenty years of practical combat experience and the accumulated data of generations of researchers."

Yu Xiaogang's tone was steady, as though he were stating the most natural fact in the world.

"Which researchers, specifically?"

"Public data from Spirit Hall, exchange records from the major Soul Master academies, and..." Yu Xiaogang paused. "My personal research."

Nan Feng nodded.

He already knew where the data came from, having read the novel in his previous life. The Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan's secret manuscripts. Back when Yu Xiaogang was still in the clan, he had used his status as the young clan leader to consult a vast amount of internal research.

Those manuscripts contained the finest Martial Soul research accumulated over generations and had never been made available to anyone outside the clan. When Yu Xiaogang was expelled, he had taken that knowledge with him in his head, and possibly a few volumes in his hands.

He had pieced together a theory from that data, then used it to label himself a "Grandmaster."

"Grandmaster."

Nan Feng leaned forward slightly. His voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear.

"What if, for my First Soul Ring, I absorb a Soul Ring that's close to a thousand years old?"

The air in the office went still for a beat.

Yu Xiaogang's hand stopped halfway to his glasses. He looked at Nan Feng through the lenses, his intent gaze turning sharp and appraising.

"What did you say?"

"I said, what if, for my First Soul Ring, I absorb a nine-hundred-year Soul Ring?"

Yu Xiaogang took off his glasses and set them on the desk. The movement exposed his entire face to the light. For the first time, Nan Feng saw his eyes clearly: they were small, with very light irises, and held a meticulousness and stubbornness honed over many years.

He looked at Nan Feng for a long time, as though weighing whether he was boasting or truly had something to back it up.

"Impossible."

Yu Xiaogang spoke.

"The meridians of a ten-year Soul Master aren't strong enough to withstand the energy of a Soul Ring older than four hundred and twenty-three years. That data has been verified repeatedly. If you really absorb a nine-hundred-year Soul Ring, there can only be one result: your meridians will all rupture, and your Soul Power will flow backward. At best, you'll be crippled. At worst, you'll die on the spot."

"Your Bronze Tower Martial Soul has no ability to suppress a Soul Ring's backlash. I've checked the records on every Tool Martial Soul, and not one can do it."

"What if it does?"

Nan Feng's voice was level.

Yu Xiaogang frowned. He put his glasses back on, leaned against the back of his chair, and tapped the desk twice with his fingers. Nan Feng noticed that his ring finger stuck up when he tapped, as though it were a habit formed by years of holding a pen.

"Where did you hear that?" Yu Xiaogang asked. "Did someone tell you something?"

"No one told me anything."

Nan Feng rose from his chair.

"Grandmaster, thank you for offering to guide me. But I want to walk my own path."

Yu Xiaogang raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't need a teacher for now," Nan Feng said. "I want to try on my own first. If my path leads nowhere, I'll come to you for guidance."

Yu Xiaogang stared at him for several breaths. There was something complicated in those pale eyes, something Nan Feng couldn't immediately make out. It might have been surprise, or it might have been disappointment.

In the end, Yu Xiaogang merely nodded, closed the notebook on the desk, and put it in a drawer.

"You can go."

His tone had returned to the indifference it had held when they first met.

"If you really can absorb a Soul Ring close to a thousand years old as your First Soul Ring, I'll apologize to you in person."

Nan Feng paused at the door without turning around.

"You will."

As the door closed, he heard a teacup being set back on its saucer behind him. The sound was soft and crisp.

Nan Feng walked along the corridor toward the stairs, his pace neither fast nor slow. His left hand was in his pocket, his fingertips touching the copper coin Old Chen had pressed on him. Its surface had been worn smooth and warm.

His Soul Power was still caught at that thin membrane between rank nine and a half and rank ten. A thin layer, not yet broken.

Soon.

At the stairwell at the end of the corridor, Xiao Wu and Tang San were sitting on the steps.

Xiao Wu was clutching a steamed bun. The moment she saw Nan Feng coming down, she stood up.

"How did it go? What did the Grandmaster say? Did he take you as his student?"

"No. I turned him down."

The bun nearly fell from Xiao Wu's hand.

"Are you crazy? That's the Grandmaster! I heard he's amazing at researching Martial Souls!"

Nan Feng took the bun from her, tore off half and stuffed it into his mouth, then gave the rest back.

"I don't accept his theory. I'll walk my own path."

Tang San hadn't said a word. He leaned against the stair rail, his gaze resting on Nan Feng's face with an appraisal Nan Feng knew well.

Yu Xiaogang must have told him some things last night too. He had spoken about Twin Martial Souls and Blue Silver Grass's potential for mutation, as well as the core framework of Martial Soul Theory. There was now another layer to the way Tang San looked at Nan Feng, and that layer was suspicion. He suspected Nan Feng knew things he shouldn't have known.

"Let's go. The dining hall will be closing soon."

Nan Feng swallowed the last bite of his bun and led the way down the stairs. Behind him came the sound of Xiao Wu chasing after him with more questions, and Tang San's unhurried footsteps.

The early-spring sunlight stretched the three shadows long across the teaching building's gray-white outer wall, overlapping and separating again.

Nan Feng walked in front, his left hand gripping the copper coin in his pocket. The warmth from the crack at the base of the tower in his palm pressed against the coin's markings, pulsing steadily and strongly.