You needn’t go so far for an apology, Sun Wukong said. You didn’t do anything bad to him. You just tampered with a few memories, meaningless ones at that. Plus, who knows what the man is really like? Maybe that façade of his will crumble away the moment he meets anyone strong enough.
Call it my gut feeling, Cha Ming said, summoning his spiritual hammer, which he used to knock the crude sword out from the cast. He placed it on a soul-alloy anvil with a pair of tongs and began hammering. Sparks flew for the next quarter hour as, little by little, a blade edge took shape. By then, the metal had cooled back down to an oily black color. Cha Ming stuck it back into the furnace and used his golden flame to heat it once more. The blade glowed red within minutes, and he continued the shaping process. Two days isn’t a lot of time. I owe him this much.
The next city will take longer, Sun Wukong cautioned. Will you spend two days for every major player you affect there?
If it lets me sleep at night, Cha Ming said. He summoned his carving knife and began tracing runic patterns into the soft red blade, which now fully resembled a sword. Some of the runes were for strength, while others were for swiftness and sharpness. The city lord cultivated fire, so he added runes that made the blade better at channeling fire techniques. When the last of the lines were finished, Cha Ming reheated the blade. He waved his hand, and three containers filled with elemental dust flew out and opened above it. The elemental dust sprinkled onto the blade and clung to the inscribed runes, lighting them up in a brilliant pattern.
Once the blade had taken in as much dust as it could, Cha Ming stopped sprinkling and took it over to the quenching barrel filled with liquified elemental essence and other alchemical reagents. He plunged the blade in, and the mixture hissed. He used his control over fire to cool the metal as quickly as possible, sending the excess heat into a nearby heat-trap formation.
Cha Ming ran his finger along the blade edge. It cut his skin easily, though the wound healed over almost instantly. He then walked over to the wall where he kept an assortment of hilts. He picked a golden one with no guard and inserted the blade between its two halves. Then, using his blacksmith’s flame, he welded the metal together, finishing the sword.
Aside from the golden hilt, the weapon was mostly black. It also contained hints of red that spread out in a billowing pattern. The blade was a half-step core-grade treasure, the best blade he’d ever made. The hilt was weaker, but it was replaceable.
“Guo Xiang!” Cha Ming called out.
The attendant, who usually avoided his forge due to the high temperatures, poked her head inside.
“Yes, Master?” she asked.
“Come to the back,” Cha Ming said. She did as she was told. Cha Ming summoned a sheet of white paper that held a picture of her servant mark. “I’m releasing you from your contract. You’re free to go.”
Previously, he’d thought about the situation long and hard before ultimately deciding to keep her during his stay, if only for appearance’s sake. In return for her service, he would now compensate her with her freedom.
Guo Xiang, the servant girl, widened her eyes in surprise. Contrary to the look of exultation he expected, however, a look of horror appeared on her face. “You mean I’m fired?” she said in a disbelieving tone.
“What?” Cha Ming asked, confused. “No, you’re not fired. You’re free.”
“But that’s my employment contract,” Guo Xiang said, swallowing. “If you cancel the contract and remove my mark, I’ll no longer be bound to serve you. You also won’t be bound to pay me. I’ll need to go searching for other employment in the meantime, and this town isn’t as booming as it once was.” She started pacing, fidgeting as she spoke to herself. “This is terrible. How will I survive?”
Cha Ming looked at her blankly. He hadn’t expected this situation. He’d been so caught up in his smithing, with most of his time spent in the Clear Sky World, that he hadn’t bothered to learn more about the situation. Slavery was slavery, was it not? He used his mind-skimming technique, which he tried using as little as possible, and extracted some details about these “employment marks.”
What a strange place, Cha Ming thought as he reviewed the information. In the South, rather than dealing with the whims of mortals, employees were bound by strict contracts using marks. These contracts were all issued by clerks of the Spirit Temple. Unlike serf brands, these weren’t permanent. If Cha Ming, her owner, dissolved her mark, she would need to go searching for another job.
“Sorry,” Cha Ming said, aiming to defuse the situation. “I misspoke. I meant that I would pay out your contract early, as I’ll be leaving this city. I’ve stayed here for too long. It’s time for me to go and seek other opportunities.”
With Sun Wukong’s magic, the entire city now remembered him having lived there for seventy years. Most mortals that had been around back then were long gone.
Guo Xiang was relieved when Cha Ming placed a small pile of mid-grade spirit stones on the table beside her. She swept them up and bowed in thanks. Such a small amount might be meaningless to him, but it was a fortune to a late-stage qi-condensation cultivator like her. Just enough of a fortune to be helpful but not enough for people to try stealing it.
He thought for a moment, then rummaged through the Clear Sky World. He retrieved a short sword and added it to the pile. “A bonus, for your excellent service. Such opportunities
