Early afternoon the next day saw Chún working in a small brush- and scrub-cleared area a li or so away from the Heaven and Earth Vine clearing, about fifty arm spans from the creek that would eventually become the small stream feeding his Immortal's Cave. The disturbed ground smelled faintly green and bruised, damp where roots had been torn free.
He had spent the morning working through chores he had put off over the last few days—the usual hunting and gathering. He had caught a medium-sized buck, which was now portioned out between the Vine, the never-ending stew pot and the drying racks for making preserved meat snacks.
Part of the cooking utensils he had purchased from the village included a basic roasting spit and stands, along with an old wok and a set of good ivory chopsticks; he had set the roasting spit over the fire pit earlier that morning.
Remembering what he had done with his old staff, Chún had worked a small amount of Earth so it rotated steadily by itself—with portions of the deer skewered on it.
The venison was roasting slowly now, over the low banked fire basted in oil, chilli, and what wild herbs and spices he had purchased or gathered. Fat hissed softly as it struck the coals, the sharp scent of hot oil and meat drifting low through the clearing.
Besides the deer, he had gathered the usual collection of wild vegetables, herbs, ginger, ginseng, turmeric, and root vegetables during the hunt. These he supplemented with excess from the vegetable patch—carefully avoiding any newly sprouted plants, which he replanted. Most went into the pot or onto the fire to roast. He had added water—and fish—to the stew pot, replenished his bedding, buried his latrine and dug a new one, and woven himself a fresh loincloth, not wanting to dirty his limited clothing while working on his new project.
As he had suspected, there were no plates, cups, bowls, or other pottery available in the village unless he bought them from the potter, who charged outrageous prices even for coarse everyday wares—especially to outsiders.
Since the area around the Heaven and Earth Vine held all the raw materials required to make his own pottery and ceramics, Chún was confident he could create something better—especially since the clay, water, mud, and, if he managed it, the fire itself would all be Essence-imbued.
As for building his kiln outside the clearing?
In simple truth, food stores were always better kept in a protected place. If not for the danger of angering a high-level Essence being, having the fire pit and stone cooking pot within the clearing was the sensible choice - but if he had known, when he built the fire pit, that the clearing itself was part of the Vine, he would never have placed it there. It had likely caused Her pain, and he could only hope She had not formed resentment because of it, trusting that his actions since then had bought him some measure of leniency.
But his mud kiln project would be fine outside the clearing. It did not matter if it was damaged—he expected to break down and rebuild several kilns before he was finished learning.
First, he cleared the area he had chosen of deadwood and small bushes and saplings, piling them neatly in one corner for later use.
With a little Essence manipulation, he dug out a shallow trench in the soil in the shape of an arched doorway. The arch was about an arm span across, with the sides extending two arm spans back, forming a large U-shape pressed into the ground.
Next, Chún dug out a small, shallow pit with his shovel. Normally, the village potter would have broken up old pots, failed firings, or remnants of previous kilns into this pit, but starting from scratch, Chún instead drew water from the creek using his Teacher's old water-drawing trick. Grabbing a large piece of deadwood from the pile, he broke down the sides of the pit until he had a thick, cohesive mud. It was cool and gritty between his fingers, smelling faintly of iron and wet leaves.
"Friend, can you keep an eye on this for me?" he asked his locus. "I do not know if I can do this with Essence alone yet—but if you watch closely, perhaps you can do the same more cleanly next time."
A wordless pulse of agreement flowed back to him.
He gathered handfuls of the dense mud and packed them into the groove, forming a solid base slightly raised above the forest floor. Then he pushed Essence into the ground at the open front of the U and asked the Mountain to lower it by half an arm span, forming a shallow fire pit.
The first layer needed time to set. Chún nudged his link lightly."Friend, while we wait… are there any treasures that need help advancing?"
An Essence illusion map unfolded across his vision, highlighting a couple of small points within a few li. He nodded and jogged back toward the cave to retrieve his staff and cloak."Just in case," he muttered.
Half a kè later, Chún was bounding from tree to tree in Monkey Movement, heading toward the first Essence Spring.
It turned out to be a small patch of herbs growing out of an old tree stump—something he would never have noticed without guidance."What do these do?" he asked.
"Minor wound healing," the Mountain replied matter-of-factly. "After advancement, it becomes blood mint. Mix with water, five-colour honey, and blood ginseng to make a soup good for internal injuries."
"That sounds useful," Chún said. "Would it grow in the clearing plot?"
"Better to help this one grow where it is. It prefers dead wood and shade, not open soil. It is close enough to gather when needed."
Chún shrugged and pulsed his Essence, the motion already becoming instinctive. Moments later, the mint exploded into thick red growth in a shower of carmine Essence motes. In his senses they rang faintly, like distant glass chimes stirred by a breeze, as small Essence ripples spread through the surrounding plants. Several nearby stems visibly perked up.
"Alright. Next?" he asked, swinging away. "And where would I find five-colour honey?"
A memory surfaced—an Essence Bee hive he had nearly blundered into on his first day after waking. He grimaced."Ah. I will think on it. Perhaps I need a way to dull pain—invulnerability is useful, but enhanced senses are not."
"It did not trouble you during battle," the Mountain noted. "Your Essence protected you."
"Yes, but I feel everything the rest of the time," Chún replied. "I do not wish to fight bees."
He peered down at a patch of ordinary-looking grass the Mountain highlighted."Another Thousand Year Grass?"
The ignition took a single miǎo.The wave passed through him like a shallow breath—warm, but easily absorbed.
Chún blinked and scratched his head."Hmm. I barely felt that. It wasn't smaller…"Understanding settled in."I have changed."
A faint sensation of agreement flowed back.
"Well then. Back to the kiln. The base should be ready for another layer now."
A soft whine cut through the forest.
Chún dropped instantly into a defensive crouch, Essence Sense flaring outward. Instead of danger, an image surfaced—a small female wolf pup, her forelimb injured.
"Can I help her?"
The response came as a clear image: his Essence aligning gently with the wolf's Dao, focused only on the damage.
He exhaled slowly. "Alright. Is there a way to let her know I mean no harm?"
A small, excited yip answered him.
Moving slowly, Chún approached the hollow beneath a tangle of tree roots where the pup hid behind a bush."Greetings, young lady. May I help you?"
She blinked, trembling, then cautiously stretched out the injured leg.
Chún sat a hand span away and reached out, touching her flank lightly. She flinched but did not retreat.
As he would with a plant, he sank into Essence perception. The pup's pattern was far more complex, but he did not attempt to change it—only to repair what was broken, feeding Essence gently until the Dao settled. Warmth gathered beneath his palm, spreading slowly as the damaged pattern knit itself whole.
A sharp bark snapped him out of focus. He opened his eyes just in time to receive a quick lick to the hand before the pup bolted away, vanishing into the undergrowth.
Chún smiled and stood."Would that work on humans?"
"Most likely," the Mountain replied. "Humans are more complex. More Dao involved. More practice required."
By the time he returned to the kiln and put away his staff and cloak, the base had set enough for a second layer. This time he re-wetted the mud and used Essence to place it directly. Having observed him once, the Mountain mirrored the process cleanly.
Another wait followed. Chún spent half a shí surveying the creek bank for workable clay deposits. For his first attempts, he deliberately avoided the heavily Essence-impregnated veins—wasting them on early failures would be foolish.
A third layer went on, raising the U-shaped walls by another third of a hand span. The walls now stood a hand high.
He waited again, taking a leisurely lunch and dreaming of the day he could stop using battered gourds for drinking and serving.
Layer by layer, over the next couple of shí, the kiln rose. When the walls reached calf height, he shaped the next layer higher at the opening, curving it gently to form the kiln's crown.
Instead of waiting this time, he broke smaller green branches from the saplings he had cleared and laid them across the curved section, covering them with mud to form a roof over the lower chamber, leaving the arched opening clear to serve as the chimney base.
He then built the chimney upward, adding several more layers of mud until it stood another hand span tall. Carefully, he cut an arched hole into the side wall, removing the mud plug to form the firebox opening, then added one final layer to the chimney.
While the new mud set, Chún dug clay from the creek bank and mixed it with water, pressing it into thick, flat bars. Once they had dried slightly, he returned to the kiln and shaped small interior ledges on either side of the firebox opening.
Cheating slightly, he used Fire Essence to dry the clay bars fully, then placed them on the ledges inside the kiln.
Dusk crept in quickly. Chún loosely replaced the side plug, stacked kindling and deadwood in the fire pit, and lit it with Fire Essence.
Heat surged inward, smoke and flame drawn through the kiln and up the chimney. Using the rising warmth, Chún added one final layer of mud to the chimney, which dried almost instantly, shaping it until it stood nearly head-high as he knelt beside it.
Satisfied, he let the fire die down.
A bath, dinner, and sleep awaited. Manipulating Earth and Water with Essence—especially without much help from his locus—was draining, and fatigue was catching up with him.
By tomorrow, the kiln would be ready to fire a pot.
Which he still had to make.
Chún sighed softly. Tomorrow would be another physical day—but the thought of proper bowls and cups spurred him on. If his idea for Essence-infused ceramics worked, he could store Essence herbs alive and healthy until market day. He only needed to figure out how to anchor Water and Earth patterns through the firing itself—much like the Mountain had anchored Fire in his stew pot.
Humming to himself, he headed back toward the clearing, lightly hopping over the ice-crack glass tuft barrier as he made for the cave and his bath.
It was nice to have a day full of constructive work for a change—rather than life-or-death situations.