My Sect Is Down to Seven People

Chapter 59: Half a Formation

The five formation stones lit up one by one. Bai Xiaoman's ten fingers pressed against the rim of the formation plate, and she did not move them.

The east stone lit first, a green glow seeping through the wood grain. The south followed, flaring red. The north stone's surface sheened white. The west metal gleamed hard and bright. The center earth stone was slowest; when it finally lit, a wash of yellow spread across the plate.

"It's up." She kept her voice very low.

Something stirred beneath the plate. The power inside the stones traveled down into the earth, coursed for a while, then came back up through the cracks around the formation eye. The formation light emerged from the cracks, white tinged with yellow. It spilled over the gravel outside the formation eye and began crawling down the slope.

Xu Yan stood three paces beyond the formation eye. Down the slope, blades of grass lit one by one, the dirt specks on their tips shining clear; after the glow passed, the grass was still grass, unburned. The Ancestral Hall and the Mountain Gate, two li below, had not yet lit.

The formation light crawled to the big blue stone halfway down the slope and stopped. It paused there, then retreated half a step and scattered into the grass.

The five stones were still glowing, glowing on the plate, unable to get out.

Bai Xiaoman raised her hands. They were trembling. She reached for the formation manual wrapped in oiled paper, spread it across her knees, and flipped ahead to the section on activating the formation. She read all the way to the end, her fingertip pressed to one line.

"The formation veins haven't carried spiritual qi in forty years. The first time it's activated, the formation eye needs to be nourished." She looked up. "To nourish the formation eye, you need one mid-grade stone. Placed at the center of the plate."

She lowered her head again, tapping her fingers on her knee. "One mid-grade is a hundred low-grade. The market on the fifth brought in a hundred ten. After paying what's owed, the remainder is ninety-eight. Take away one mid-grade and—"

"Start the formation first," Xu Yan said.

"I didn't read the veins right." Bai Xiaoman stared at the plate. "I spent two days mapping them last time and found five lines. I thought I'd found them all."

"Does the manual mention nourishing the formation?"

"It's written at the end of the activation section." She turned the page over, facing him. "I only read halfway through last time. I finished the rest today."

"Then you didn't read them wrong." Xu Yan said. "You just didn't finish reading."

He took the manual, glanced at the final page, and handed it back.

"Finish the manual. I'm going down."

He walked down the slope. The grass had just been touched by formation light and was still warm, soft underfoot. When he reached the back wall of the Ancestral Hall, he looked back at the Back Mountain. The light of the five stones still glowed halfway up the slope, glowing uselessly.

The accounts room door was open. The wooden box was under the table, the cloth sack of mid-grade stones wrapped inside, pressed into the very bottom. He lifted the sack out, squeezed it, then flipped through the count of low-grade stones in the box before leaving.

The climb back up took two quarter-hours. By late afternoon he returned. Bai Xiaoman was still sitting beside the formation plate, the manual spread on her knees, the oiled paper pinned under her foot. He set the cloth sack on the blue stone, untied it, and took out one mid-grade stone, placing it in her palm.

The stone was heavy. It dragged her hand down.

"This is Rank Silver."

"The formation is a threshold too. One of the three."

"Take one away, and the books are short."

"We'll settle how short after the formation is up."

Bai Xiaoman clenched the mid-grade stone in her fist, held it for a while, then pressed it into the center of the formation plate. There was a shallow depression there, shallower than the five stone slots, and the mid-grade stone settled into it perfectly.

Her ten fingers came down on the plate, and she closed her eyes.

The edges of the mid-grade stone softened first, then collapsed, spreading into a thin layer that seeped into the stone surface and vanished. The stirring beneath the plate was deeper this time, traveling outward in all directions through the earth, far, far away before it stopped.

The formation light rose from the cracks. It was thicker this time, and faster. It poured over the gravel, climbed the blue stone, and swept over it down the slope.

The roof ridges below lit first. The tiles of the Ancestral Hall glowed at the front, the plaque of the Mountain Gate behind. The formation light halted at the Mountain Gate, its edges dropping down, enclosing the gate, the front courtyard, and the Ancestral Hall.

Someone was coming up the mountain path. Cheng Banshan walked in front, his empty sleeve lifted by the wind; behind him came Shi Po, one hand pressed to his ribs.

"Full formation." Cheng Banshan stopped outside the formation eye and tilted his head up at the light. "Who's holding it?"

"She." Xu Yan tilted his chin toward the plate.

"No one else on this mountain could replace her." Cheng Banshan hung the wine gourd at his waist, untied a bundle of incense from behind his back, pulled out four sticks, and planted them in a crack in the rock outside the formation eye, spaced in a row. He lit the first with a flick of his hand.

"Four sticks, one after another, one shichen." He crouched down. "If it's still standing when they burn out, then it's really up."

Shi Po crouched outside the formation eye, bracing himself with one hand, looking up.

"Go down," Cheng Banshan said without turning.

"I can stand."

"Those two ribs of yours, you couldn't even touch them yesterday." Cheng Banshan said. "If you're going to stand anyway, find a wall to lean on."

Shi Po shifted two steps toward the big blue stone. He did not leave.

Another person came up the path below. Jiang Wan walked over with her sword, stopped outside the formation eye, and reached one hand into the layer of light. The light spread over the back of her hand. It did not block her.

"Can you hold?"

Bai Xiaoman did not answer. Her eyes were closed, her lips moving faintly—breathing.

"The formation is in her hands," Cheng Banshan said. "Lift her hands and it falls. She can't speak right now."

"What's it drawing from her?"

"Her own spiritual power." Cheng Banshan said. "The stones don't take it. She does. This formation hasn't run in forty years. The first day it flows, it feeds harder."

Jiang Wan withdrew her hand, studied the plate for a moment, and turned to go down.

"I'll have Du Xiaochuan bring the medicine up," she said at the top of the slope.

"Send it up," Cheng Banshan answered. "She needs it hot."

The first incense stick was half burned when Shao Ming came up. He knelt outside the formation eye and pressed his hand to the ground for a long while, then raised his head.

"The underground is flowing," he said. "The formation veins run through the earth. The five stones are just the starter. Once it runs through once, it'll be easier from now on."

"Later is later." Cheng Banshan said. "First, this girl has to last out the shichen."

Halfway through the second stick, the mountain wind came down off the cliff, and the formation light rippled, then settled. Halfway through the third, Bai Xiaoman's hands began to shake, sweat running from her temples and plastering her hair to her face.

The fourth stick was more than half burned when Du Xiaochuan came up the path, carrying a bowl. Its top was covered with cloth. He walked fast and stopped outside the formation eye, not daring to come closer.

"It's hot." He held the bowl out to Cheng Banshan.

"Wait."

The fourth incense stick burned down to the end, its ash collapsing into the crack. The formation was still there. The tiles of the Ancestral Hall glowed, the plaque of the Mountain Gate glowed.

"Time's up." Cheng Banshan stood. "Withdraw."

Bai Xiaoman pressed both wrists together and slowly raised her hands.

The formation light pulled back from the Mountain Gate, retreating step by step up the slope, past the blue stone, back into the cracks. The five stones dimmed, fading to their usual color—gray and dusty, showing no sign they could ever light anything.

She lifted her hands from the plate and pitched forward.

Cheng Banshan caught her shoulder with his one hand and steadied her. Blood ran from her nose and dripped onto the edge of the formation plate—two drops first, then a steady line.

He gripped her wrist and held it for a while.

"Seventy percent of her spiritual power's gone." He let go. "No going up the Back Mountain within three days."

"The ninth..." Bai Xiaoman's voice was faint.

"On the ninth, come to my Medicine Hall an hour early and take the medicine first." Cheng Banshan said. "I'll prepare it. Don't mix your own."

He lifted the cloth off the bowl Du Xiaochuan had brought. Steam rushed up. He held it to her lips.

"Drink it hot."

Shi Po walked over, crouched, and turned his back to her.

"No need," Bai Xiaoman said. "I can walk myself."

"Get on." Cheng Banshan said. "After walking these two li, you won't even be able to lift your own hands."

Shi Po shifted her onto his back and steadied her. Cheng Banshan followed, pausing a step as he passed Shi Po.

"You don't want those two ribs anymore."

"Doesn't hurt."

In the Monkey hour, Qian Duoduo's group returned from town. The pot and carrying pole were all there, and three bowls still sat pressed in the steamer tray.

"Second pot, eighty. Ten bottles of Qi-Gathering Powder, thirty." Qi Qi untied the coin string and spilled a pile of low-grade stones onto the main hall table. "A hundred ten, not one missing."

"Forty tally sticks. I counted three times." A Sui held up her fingers. "Forty all three times."

"There's no market before the ninth," Qian Duoduo said, setting the carrying pole against the wall and panting. "The next one's on the tenth."

"The tenth comes after the ninth," Qi Qi said.

A He crouched on the doorsill. "We were packing up when the Back Mountain lit. Everyone in the market looked up. The old flatbread seller stood by his stall with his neck craned. Lu Shoutian took one look and said, 'I run the market. Whatever happens on the mountain is none of my business.'"

"Some people asked if they could come up and watch on the ninth," Qian Duoduo said. "I said I didn't know, they'd have to ask the Sect Master."

He spotted Shi Po carrying Bai Xiaoman through the West Wing door, and his words stopped. He lifted the three bowls out of the steamer tray and stood holding them.

"Her nose is bleeding?" A Sui ran over to look. "Sister Bai's nose is bleeding."

"She drank the medicine." Shi Po set Bai Xiaoman on the edge of the bed and straightened up. "Elder Cheng says no Back Mountain for three days."

In the Dog hour, the lamp in the Accounts Room was lit.

Xu Yan turned the running ledger to a new page and wrote two lines:

"September 5. Income: one hundred ten stones. Two pots of Spirit Meals, ten bottles of Qi-Gathering Powder."

"Expenditure: one mid-grade stone, formation eye nourishment."

The ink was freshly ground. He laid the brush back on the brush rest and waited for the characters to dry, then lifted the wooden box to the table and dumped it out to count.

Mid-grade stones: fourteen, laid out in a row down the table, one by one. Low-grade: six hundred ninety-eight, stacked in piles of a hundred—six piles—and the remaining ninety-eight counted in his palm, then counted again.

Two thousand ninety-eight stones.

Debt: two thousand one hundred.

Short by two.

He sat under the lamp and worked through it once, then again. The next town market was on the tenth; the tenth was after the ninth. The medicine hall's stock wouldn't sell, and the herbs drying in the old garden weren't worth spirit stones. The formation stones sat dead in their sockets—pried out, they'd be worthless. Everything in this room, unsellable.

He pulled the deckle-edged paper from the drawer, the one from September 1, the three thresholds each on its own line. He added after the Rank Silver line: short by two.

He pressed his hand on the thin ledger and asked:

"Two stones. Where do they come from?"

The ledger turned a page and showed a single line:

[Balance: Heritage 25 points.]

He waited. No second line appeared.

Heritage could be exchanged for old things left by the Founding Patriarch in the storeroom. It could not be exchanged for a single spirit stone. He'd known this for a long time. Four days until the ninth.

He moved the lamp closer. Bending over, he reached under the bed and felt around until he found the old wooden box.

Inside lay an inkstone, blue stone, wrapped in two layers of oiled paper. Fang Henian had placed it on his desk the year he joined the Accounts Room. These past two years he'd used the old tile inkstone that belonged to the room. This one had been kept under the bed the whole time.

He unwrapped the oiled paper, lifted the inkstone into the lamplight, turned it over, then righted it. The ink pool was clean. The chipped corner was still there—he'd done it himself that year while moving the old ledgers.

The lamp wick had burned short, and the light pressed low. He held the inkstone in his hands, turned it over, and looked at the bottom.