Reach Heaven Via Feng Shui Engineering, Drug Trade And Tax Evasion

“Unstable heartbeat. All meridians overstressed, to the point of spasming in the left leg, heart, liver, and both wrists.” The healer glared at her, scribbling down notes in a small notebook. His spiritual energy swirled around her, burning here and there as it gently touched her body and soul to check for damage. “Microfractures in most of the bones. Lymph full of residuals. All this on top of the main injury to the chest.” He slammed the notebook closed. “What did you do to yourself, girl?”

Qian Shanyi glanced up at the strict man standing next to the bench. His disciple - a boy, not even a cultivator himself - was busy bandaging her chest. The treatment room was small, and she was glad for the sound muffling formation inscribed on the walls.

“I had a -” She winced, as the disciple pushed a bit too much on her ribs. His bandaging skills left much to be desired. “I had a premonition, and acted to prepare for the worst,” she finished.

Healer’s eyes bore into her. “What pills did you take?”

“Ivory of the rampaging divine ape, about fifty milligrams every four hours for nine days, to stave off sleep,” she began. She had the whole list memorized. “Then another gram when the tribulation started. Big Mo’s healing tablets, one every eight hours, for overall recovery, supplemented by pills from local alchemists, equivalent to ox-seven, dragon-two, goat-twelve and rooster-six from Huang Wen’s tables. Rosevine tea - ah!” She winced again, and glared at the disciple. At this rate she could have done it faster herself.

He mumbled an apology, and she sighed. He was almost done, anyways. “Like I said, rosevine tea, hard brew, for spiritual energy recirculation and water intake. Then the standard pre-tribulation set, and finally, the ministration of the dying serpent, for major injuries, one right when the tribulation started, and another one when I got perforated.”

“You were days away from a qi deviation if you didn’t stop.”

“Like I said, I had a premonition. Besides, I knew when to stop.”

“How?”

She shrugged slightly, doing her best to not further interrupt the work of the disciple bandaging her up. “I checked the interaction tables.”

“Interaction tables?” The healer sneered at her. “You took enough pills to kill a horse. No table is written for this many variables.”

The disciple tied off the bandage around her chest, and bowed, retreating to a corner of the room. “Desperate times, desperate measures,” she said, slowly standing up, and stretching out her arms to check how well she could move. She shouldn’t have disparaged the boy so much - for all his slowness, the bandaging was done competently, and did not restrict her beyond reason. “I had four or five days of safety margin, if my math was off.”

The real safety margin was the dense spiritual energy and highly auspicious feng shui in Wang Yonghao’s world fragment, but she wasn’t going to mention that, healer confidentiality or no.

The healer sighed, unimpressed by her logic. “Any other symptoms I should know about?”

“Is your skin supposed to look orange?”

“No.”

“In that case, my eyes.” She frowned, looking around. “I think I stopped seeing blue, sometime around when we reached the clinic.”

“That would be from the overdose on the ministration of the dying serpent.”

She grimaced. “I figured. Is the damage permanent?”

He gave her a long hard look while she dressed back up. “It will be permanent if you do not stop. But no, despite your best efforts, you should recover. Even your lung meridian should heal well on its own.”

“Excellent.” She smiled, clipping her sword back to her belt. “Any other advice?”

“My advice is to rest and let your body fully recover,” he said, walking over to a small desk. He picked up a small sheet of paper, and started writing his instructions on it. “Absolutely no pills of any type for at least two weeks. No cultivation either. Refrain from forcefully circulating spiritual energy at all if you can help it - though who am I kidding, I can already see you will ignore this.”

She bowed. “I will make sure to limit myself to the basics.”

“Ample and varied diet, prepared by an immortal chef if you can afford one,” he said, handing the note over to her. “You are mildly malnutritioned on top of everything else. I added instructions on dealing with qi deviation, in case you still slide into it - I do not want to see you in my clinic until the month is done, at the very least.”

“Thank you,” she said, looking over his notes. Curt, but comprehensive. “I happen to be an immortal chef myself, so that should not be a problem. I solemnly swear that I will follow your advice to the letter, unless the Heavens force my hand through devious treachery.”

The healer’s glare warmed her heart as she left the room.

Some medicines were for the body, while others for the soul.

Wang Yonghao was waiting for her in the lobby, small as it was, pacing around anxiously. There was no sign of Jian Shizhe - he had been brought in together with them, and treated first, once the healer made sure she was in no immediate danger. She hoped dealing with his foot would go well - he looked pretty bad when she last saw him, despite his attempts at stoicism, and hers to keep up the good humor.

When she approached him, Wang Yonghao pulled out an unsealed letter and handed it over to her. She took it with a raised eyebrow. The paper felt thick and smooth in her fingers.

“While you were out, a messenger came from the Northern Scarlet Stream sect, and gave me this,” he said as a means of explanation. He looked around the room anxiously. “They also paid for our bills.”

Her eyebrows climbed further, and she opened the letter. It was short and to the point.

Every day, the suns fall below the earth, and yet every sunset is still as beautiful as the last. Every tribulation transcended is a cause for celebration - fellow cultivators, Northern Scarlet Stream sect extends a heartfelt invitation to a feast, an hour after sunset at our compound.

Wang Yonghao looked just about ready to bolt. “So, what do we do?”

“What do you mean?” She looked back at him. “We don’t have to do anything, simply attend.”

They walked out of the clinic, and headed towards the post office. There was a matter of the remaining materials to deal with.

“No, I mean - ” Wang Yonghao looked around as they walked, but the street was mostly empty. “Should we flee? What does this mean?”

She rolled her eyes. Honestly. “Please, relax. Nobody will bite your head off - nobody will dare even slap your face, not right after a tribulation. It’s just a feast.”

“Shanyi.” He glared at her. “It’s never just a feast!”

She started to laugh, then winced. Okay, no laughing until her lungs healed more. “Fine, it’s not just a feast. They clearly want something, if they even paid for my healer. But that doesn’t mean it’s anything nefarious. Everyone celebrates a successful Tribulation - for a sect we have not dealt with before to invite us is unusual, but not unprecedented.”

“What makes you so sure it’s not nefarious?” he grumbled.

“That their darling child Jian Shizhe fought alongside us?” In lieu of laughing, she rolled her eyes instead. “Even if you ignore our status as having transcended the tribulation, that alone would shield us from reprisals. You cannot see danger in every bush, Yonghao.”

When they reached the post office, she saw the hill busy with activity - the corpses of the Heavenly beasts being butchered for parts, weighed on scales, and stored away in boxes and barrels as half a dozen cultivators and another dozen ordinary people made quick work of it. Junming stood nearby, watching over the process, back to wearing their woolen robes. A clipboard was strapped to their left arm, and a pencil held in their right, attached by a short lanyard.

“Jun-!” she tried to call out, and descended into more coughs instead. Damnable lungs. They turned to face her, perhaps because of how loud she was. “Junming,” she continued quieter, “a cultivator is supposed to relax after transcending a tribulation, not go back to work.”

They let go of the pencil, and signed to her, the pencil bouncing around from the motion of their hands. , they made a sign she didn’t recognise, two fingers held out on both hands, moving away from their nose in a slight upward curve, , another one, fingers of both hands wagging at chest level as they moved the hands backwards, , yet another one, palms spread, moving away from the chest.

I am guessing that last one was for “breathing”. First one, perhaps either fellow or honorable? From context, expressing concern or happiness? “I am happy to see my fellow cultivator is alive and breathing”?

“I am afraid I only got about a third of that,” she said honestly, “but I am glad to see you alive as well. I take it you are processing the materials?”

Junming put their hands down, bouncing on their feet slightly. Annoyed or anxious? Could well be either. “Yes,” they warbled, reaching for the clipboard and flipping over to one of the sheets, before handing it over to her. “Your part.”

She briefly wondered why they added at all. It felt a bit too formal, though it was just a guess on her part - she had no idea about the norms of politeness in sign. Perhaps they were concerned how it would seem to Yonghao, or others further up the hill.

She accepted the clipboard with a smile. It was filled with neat, clean writing. “What did Hui Yin do with his part?” she said, scanning through the tables.

“Ate it.”

She heard Wang Yonghao choke behind her. “Exactly as I expected,” she said, nodding. Curls must have eaten it - a beast of that size would surely appreciate a meal so dense in spiritual energy - but it would amuse her to keep Yonghao in the dark. “I expect we need to pay for the work and the storage?”

He named a price, and she frowned slightly. It sounded too high to her, by a factor of two or three, but perhaps she estimated falsely while she was waiting on the healer.

Then again, when you're ahead...

“Tell you what,” she said casually, picking up the pencil attached to the clipboard, and leaving small marks on one row after another. “There are two hundred odd cultivators in these two towns, are there not? We will be donating half of our share - take the payment out of it, and then split the rest equally. Loose cultivators get double share, and those helping here now get triple - could you do that?”

Some gasps and cheers rose up around the hill, where other cultivators could hear their conversation. She smiled. That was a lot of money she was tossing out, and this was about the effect she was hoping for. Junming froze for a moment, but then nodded, and accepted the clipboard back.

She also marked out one of the oxen to be sent directly to the Northern Scarlet Stream sect, with compliments to their kitchen. It wouldn’t do to have them expect they were simply some paupers they could lure in by paying for their healer, and perhaps she could get a good meal out of it too.

They took some small cuts of the meat together with them - rooster, ox and horse - and headed back to the tavern. Wang Yonghao still kept quiet, all the way across the glassy fields. He only spoke up again when they entered the sound-dampening formation in their room. “So you still want to go to the feast? That’s why you sent them a whole ox?”

“Partly.” She nodded. “I want to celebrate transcending the tribulation properly, and besides, my healer expressly told me to have a varied diet prepared by an immortal chef - who would I be to defy him? But no, I donated them because there is little else we could do - it’s not like we can bring them with us. People see us slaughter several tons of beasts, and then we walk out of town with two dainty backpacks - what do you think they will think?“

“That we have an inner world?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scowled mockingly, “everyone knows that inner worlds don’t exist. No, they will think we have a cosmos ring - and those have to be registered. Now open up your inner world, will you? We could get a whole day of rest inside before the night falls here, and I want to give my lungs as much time to heal as they could get.”

Wang Yonghao rolled his eyes at her joke, but opened the entrance.

“I feel like you still aren’t taking this seriously, even after the Heavens almost killed you,” he said as they slowly descended inside.

“We talked about this, Yonghao - not everything is due to your luck,” she said, “we transcend the tribulation - it is only natural for us to be invited to a feast. This doesn’t have to be a scheme of the Heavens.”

“But it could be. You know they will keep trying to kill you.”

She raised an eyebrow, looking up at him from where she hung on a rope tied to his waist. “Obviously. But we’ve established there are other reasons for this feast to occur. We’ve also established that your luck has limits, and can be defeated. We are in a very good position right now. So why the suspicion?“

“It’s…I don’t know. Can’t I just worry about you getting killed?”

She nodded. “You can, of course. It’s good to think ahead - I simply think you are going a bit overboard. How do you imagine them doing that, aside from using your luck?”

“What if they send a celestial to cut off your head directly?”

Her eyebrow lifted a hair more. “Hm. Have you heard about the Lion kingdom, Yonghao?”

He frowned at her, as they touched down on the ground. “No. What is it?”

“No matter.” She waved him off, heading towards one of the icy trenches of the chiclotron. “There is a reason why the Empire now slaughters celestials on sight. If the Heavens tried to send a messenger, they wouldn’t be fighting us, they would be fighting the whole province.”

She reached the trench, Yonghao following close behind, and quickly put the newly harvested meat inside, only taking a small cut of the rooster.

“Look, I do see your concerns,” she sighed, heading to the kitchen, “that is another reason why I donated half of the materials we got. Selling them would take a while, and I am no longer quite so willing to try my luck at it. Donation gives us goodwill immediately, which has other uses. So if you simply do not want to go, I won’t drag you to the feast - but I am getting my Heavens-damned celebration, Yonghao.”

She tossed the rooster meat on the table, slipping out of her bandoliers and knife sheaths. They’d need cleaning, still covered in blood as they were.

“And in the meantime - let’s see about cooking this Heavenly chicken,” she said, stretching out her fingers. “I want soup.”

They lazed about for the rest of the ever-shining day, in games and conversation, and once she went to bed, she slept like a kitten.

Spirit wine flowed, torches and lanterns shone brightly, and music filled the air.

One of the main courtyards of the Northern Scarlet Stream sect had been completely transformed, from a place of training, to one of glittering silks and celebration, or cheering and laughter, of conversation and games. Great tables have been brought out, filled with drinks and food, and a hundred people - cultivators and mortals both - all reveled together, drinking and dancing and playing as outer disciples ran to and fro, bringing more wine or tea. The light of lanterns reflected off the great, arching glass ceiling, arrays of lenses turning it into rainbows that overlaid the black, starry sky above.

Alongside one of the courtyard walls, there stood a portable kitchen, where Qian Shanyi was making a certain oxen stew, assisted by Wang Yonghao and a half dozen outer disciples. A small pack of cultivators gathered around, watching her perform.

“Honorable cultivator Qian, what made the heavenly tribulation so furious towards you?” asked one of the young men from the Northern Scarlet Stream sec, and the others around him quieted down, watching for her response. One named Chen, she was fairly sure.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Qian Shanyi said, gesturing to her body with her knife. After a full day in the world fragment, her hands have almost stopped shaking. “I broke into Heaven and slept with the mother of the Heavenly Emperor. He has been out for my blood ever since.”

Other cultivators watching her slice up the ox meat laughed, and Probably Chen blushed slightly. Wang Yonghao, conscripted to help her prepare the meat, stepped on her foot under the table. She ignored him.

“But how could that be?” Chen said, shaking his head, and trying to recover his position. “Everyone knows that the Heavens know nothing about filial piety.”

She nodded easily. Casual stance would hit the strongest here. “Who could deny this?” she said, not looking up from her work. “But you see, after three days and three nights with me, his mother adamantly refused to sleep with him anymore. He simply…doesn’t suffice. Is it any wonder jealousy would flood his mind?”

The laughter grew riotous, and Chen bowed, tapping out. She smirked. Too easy.

A simple game of rhetoric, known by a hundred different names, played often whenever someone transcended a tribulation. Others threw questions at her - traditionally about the tribulation - and she had to respond in a way that made fun of the Heavens. Neither side could contradict what the other had already established - even if it was a blatant lie - only build on top of it. The first one to stumble lost - but of course, where the tribulation transcender was usually alone, there were many challengers. It was expected for them to lose, again and again - the question was merely how long they held out, and which of the challengers could make them fall.

She rarely lost, though this was her first time on the other side of the field. This fool didn’t know who he was dealing with. Her donation had only heated up the rumors that started up after their rare tribulation, and this game gave her a perfect excuse to tell all comers to fuck off with their questions. Let them make their own conclusions - being seen as rich and mysterious was one of the goals, after all.

After much gnashing of teeth and wringing of hands, Wang Yonghao finally agreed to try coming to the feast alongside her, and she roped him into helping her cook. Partly, it was so that he wouldn’t get cornered all on his own - working together, she could catch questions aimed at him - and partly because for all that she healed greatly after a day in his inner world, lifting things still hurt quite a bit.

She finished cutting the ox cheeks, and slid the cuts over to him, to be arranged on a baking tray and put in an oven. An outer disciple on her other side had just finished doing the same with the ribs, and she nodded at him, admiring how quickly and efficiently the man moved. It was nice to work with well-trained people.

The main sect cook really appreciated her donation, and easily agreed to give her access to one of the portable kitchens. She recently happened across an amazing ox stew recipe, you see, and couldn’t wait to try it out.

She even shared the recipe with him. It’s not like she cared - even if she wanted to specialize as an immortal chef, there was no real chance of her needing to hoard recipes to make ends meet, not with Yonghao around. Besides, Wang Niu was a prick: if she could take the uniqueness of his dish away from him, she’d consider that an added victory. In return, the cook agreed to provide all the heavenly materials and earthly treasures they would need to adapt the recipe to work with a Heavenly ox, as opposed to a regular one.

Her hands freed from knifework, she looked across the courtyard, searching for her fellows in tribulation. Hui Yin was playing a game of his own, all the way across, spinning songs from what the audience threw at him. Junming seemed to have left - the crowds did not seem to be to their liking, so she expected as much. As for Jian Shizhe…

She spotted him hobbling into the courtyard, Rui Bao at his side, and clapped Wang Yonghao on the shoulder. They headed over, leaving the challengers behind. She’d be back for their blood soon enough.

Jian Shizhe looked composed, for all that he had a short peg tied to his leg in place of his missing foot, yet there was challenge in his eyes. He met the eyes of many as he entered, and all looked away, too scared to even congratulate him on transcending the tribulation. She wasn’t sure if she would have dared to do so either, in other circumstances: who knew how the man might react? Even honest praise might be taken as an insult.

Fortunately, they had transcended the tribulation at his side, and so she was immune to his wroth. When Jian Shizhe’s eyes turned on her and Yonghao, she saw the challenge in them soften and fade. “Fellow cultivator Jian!” She grinned, opening her arms wide, as if for a hug - though there was no chance he would ever allow that. “Finally you come to celebrate! I was starting to worry that the Heavens got to you in the end.”

“My life was in no danger - unlike yours, fellow cultivator Qian,” he said, giving her a curt nod - the most she could ever imagine from him, really. He stopped at one of the refreshment tables, seemingly consumed by the choice of what to drink, and people nearby suddenly found they had somewhere else to be entirely. That the table was one of the closest to the entrance did not escape her notice.

“Oh, please.” She waved him off. “That goat couldn’t kill a child, let alone me.”

“Again you tempt fate, Shanyi.” Wang Yonghao sighed, a step behind her.

“Amateurs ‘tempt’ fate.“ She grinned. “To cultivate is to bend fate over your knee, no temptation required.“

The slightest of grins flickered over Jian Shizhe’s lips, contrasting with his gloomy appearance.

“I heard it was quite the battle indeed,” Rui Bao said right next to him, his hand already cradling a glass of spirit wine with the same casual grip as she had seen him hold a sword. “The hill is still red from the top down.”

“I haven’t seen you among the crowds, Rui Bao.” She snorted. “A busy morning?”

He grimaced as if he bit into a lemon. “It is a crime to rise before noon without a cause,” he said, “next time, could you ask the Heavens to schedule the tribulation more conveniently?”

“I will make sure to send them a letter.” She laughed softly.

Jian Shizhe turned away from the table, his hands still empty of food or drink, and towards Wang Yonghao. He inclined his body slightly, exactly enough for a respectful nod.

“Fellow cultivator Wang,” Jian Shizhe said quietly, “I must apologize, for I have treated you unfairly. I thought you were an honorless dog, but you fought the tribulation - and few things bring more honor to a cultivator. It has been an honor to fight alongside you.”

“It’s… alright?” Wang Yonghao chuckled awkwardly, looking at her for guidance. She shrugged. She told him this might happen - it’s his own fault he didn’t believe.

“It is not,” Jian Shizhe said, shaking his head. “But I no longer have any quarrel with you, and I wanted this known. And now - my uncle, Jian Wei, asks to meet you. I have come to show you the way to his office.”

“Only Yonghao?” Qian Shanyi raised an eyebrow before Wang Yonghao could respond.

“Both of you,” - Jian Wei glanced at her - “one after the other.”

“Hm. In that case, I will go first,” she said, stepping in front of Wang Yonghao, and putting a hand over his shoulder with an easy smile. “I planned to meet Elder Ever-Dancing Sunlight on my own, and I must say that my partner can be quite clueless in the things honorable Elder no doubt wants to discuss.”

She saw Jian Wei pause, clearly unused to a disruption of his flow. Wang Yonghao grabbed her by the hand, and pulled her away from the table. “Fellow cultivators, if I may have a word with my… partner?”

She snorted, and let him lead her aside, towards one of the courtyard walls. “What are you doing?!” he whispered, growing more agitated. “Going to meet an elder - this is what always happens for me!”

She rolled her eyes. “No, it isn’t,” she whispered back, “we got invited to the feast - who do you think sent us the letter? A lowly outer disciple? Elder Ever-Dancing Sunlight is the head of the Northern Scarlet Stream sect, and the uncle of Jian Shizhe. He was one of the obvious candidates, and there is no reason to expect malice from him - especially towards me. What do you think he will do, shout at you?”

“And what if he just kills you on the spot?”

“Kill me?” She boggled her eyes at him, and looked around. Thankfully nobody was close enough to overhear them. “Are you insane? No wonder you have problems so often, if you just casually suggest such a thing. No building foundation cultivator - let alone an elder - would dare violate the fourth edict.”

He just stared at her. “What the hell is the fourth edict?”

“We don’t have time for a history lesson,” she said, brushing his hand aside, “I’ll see what he wants, then tell you if it’s safe. Keep watch over the stew, will you? And if you need any help, ask the local chef.”

The local disciples should have it well in hand, really, and most of what remained was the waiting while individual ingredients cooked - but she wanted to give him something to do instead of worrying over nothing. When she returned to Jian Shizhe, he looked back at Wang Yonghao staying behind, clearly suspecting something, but finally nodded, and set off through the twisted corridors of the sect compound together with Qian Shanyi and Rui Bao.

As they walked, she lowered her voice, glancing down at Jian Shizhe’s missing foot.

“The healers could not save your leg?”

Rui Bao froze as soon as she opened her mouth, and sent her a warning glare. Rage flashed in Jian Shizhe’s eyes, but then he looked back up at her, and it slowly faded. He breathed out slowly, through clenched teeth.

“No.”

Cultivation and pills could do a lot, and reattaching a lost limb was not out of the question - but if it was damaged enough, then only the rarest masters could help, and even those only if they arrived quickly enough.

She nodded simply, even as Rui Bao gesticulated furiously at her with his eyebrows, telling her to shut up. “I am sorry that happened,” she said, winking at Rui Bao when Jian Shizhe looked away. Someone had to, and all the others around Jian Shizhe were clearly cowards.

That it let her tweak Rui Bao’s nose was simply a bonus.

“There is nothing to apologize over,” Jian Shizhe said, not looking at her. “It is the duty of every cultivator to stand against the Heavens. A foot is a measly price to pay to rip the lives of fellow cultivators out of their jaws.”

She could tell he said it for his own sake as much as hers.

“Besides, I will have a prosthesis soon enough,” he said, “what kind of trash would I be if I put down my sword over a mere loss of a limb?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You sound like you speak from experience.”

“You will see it soon enough,” Jian Shizhe grit his teeth. “We are almost at my uncle’s office.”