“Thank you,” Guo Xiang said with a bow. Then, with tears in her eyes, she ran out the door. The memories Sun Wukong had given him were happy ones, and soon all she would remember was a distant memory of a generous employer five years ago.
“I really hate inserting myself into people’s lives,” Cha Ming said softly. “Even if it’s the least violent way to do something.” The tampering affected their past and undid many of their previous choices. Choice was something very dear to him.
“If you want, we can go about it using Wang Jun’s plan,” Sun Wukong offered.
“No,” Cha Ming said. “The quicker we go about this, the more likely we are to spoil Zhou Li’s plans and take them by surprise. We’ll get in and out of their lives as quickly as possible.”
Cha Ming looked around the forge and retrieved the valuable metals, his anvil, and some molds. He considered storing the larger items like his furnace but decided against it as this might expose him. Then, he traveled to a small shop in an inconspicuous back alley. He dropped an envelope and spirit stones in front of a man, who nodded before putting away his request. This wasn’t a pawn shop like most people assumed, but an outpost of the Greenwind Pavilion. They would sell the location to a promising blacksmith using a contract backdated to five years ago. The trail he’d left wasn’t perfect, but it would survive a cursory examination.
His property settled, it was time to go see the city lord. Cha Ming, or Pai Xiao, rather, walked back to the main road and continued walking until he arrived at a mansion just north of the central square. The city lord’s mansion was well-maintained but not opulent. The guards, accustomed to him both through planted memories and actual visits, immediately allowed him inside. A servant ran ahead of him to alert the city lord, just in case the powerful cultivator hadn’t noticed his presence.
“Uncle Pai Xiao,” a voice said from beside him. It was the city lord’s youngest daughter, Mo Ling. Unlike most people on the continent, her hair was brown instead of black. The young woman’s light-brown eyes glimmered with excitement and curiosity.
“How goes your schooling, little one?” Cha Ming asked. He took a seat in the guest room as the city lord prepared himself upstairs.
“I’m hardly little,” Mo Ling said, wrinkling her nose. “And school is boring. I understand cultivation, and I’m already a foundation-establishment expert at the young age of twenty-one. But do I really need to learn accounting, of all things? And management?”
“They’re both important skills,” Cha Ming said. “Whether for your own estate or for your future husband’s. I, for one, find myself needing to hire people to do such things. Otherwise my smithy might become insolvent without me realizing.”
She looked at him with suspicion. “I just don’t want to be contained,” she said. “I want to roam the kingdom and be an adventurer. I want to battle fierce demons and clear out bandits like they do in the stories.”
“It’s not all fun and games,” Cha Ming said, leaning back on the sofa and closing his eyes.
“Oh? You’ve done all these things?” Mo Ling asked, her eyes brightening.
“In my youth,” Cha Ming admitted. “But my injuries accumulated. One day, while adventuring, I discovered a basic smithing inheritance. It felt like destiny. So, I sold my sword and dedicated myself to smithing. The rest is history.”
Mo Ling nodded and fetched hot water and tea leaves. She poured them tea as they waited for her father, who soon walked into the living room looking flustered. He looked pale and tired, which was odd given his identity as a peak-foundation-establishment cultivator.
“What brings you in today?” the city lord asked, fatigue practically dripping from his words. He took a cup of tea from Mo Ling with trembling hands. The trembling stopped as he took a sip of the soothing hot liquid. A hint of color also returned to his face.
“Is something the matter?” Cha Ming asked, noting his unusual mood. “I can come back at a better time.”
“No, that’s quite all right,” the city lord said. “I have about a quarter hour to spare.”
“Then I’ll be quick,” Cha Ming said. A black longsword appeared in his right hand, golden hilt facing the city lord, Mo Zhen. “This is for you. A gift for all your years of good service during my stay in this city.”
The city lord shook his head and pushed Cha Ming’s hands away. “This is too great a gift, Master Pai Xiao. And what is this you’re saying about a stay in this city? Are you leaving us at last?”
Cha Ming smiled wistfully. “I’ve reached the peak of what I can achieve in a small city. I can only go so far without gathering more knowledge.”
The city lord nodded. Everyone had been discussing the eventual occurrence for quite some time. He hesitated but still firmly pushed the sword back.
“This is too expensive,” Mo Zhen said. “Although it’s not a core treasure, I can tell it’s not a magic treasure either.”
“It’s a half-step-core treasure,” Cha Ming said. “My best work yet. It far exceeds the ten blades I crafted for the city’s protectors.” He’d crafted those blades as a focus for the web of memories Sun Wukong had created.
“It’s too great a gift,” Mo Zhen protested again.
“It’s what you deserve,” Cha Ming said, forcing it back.
Then, seeing that the city lord wouldn’t take it, he plunged it into the stone floor. Several servants, who had been listening in on the conversation, gasped in shock. “If you don’t like it, I’ll leave it here. Perhaps one of your children will claim it, assuming they don’t cut themselves on it.”
Mo Zhen grinned. “Very well. Perhaps it will come in handy.” He grasped it by
