When he awoke the next morning, Chún lay blinking up at the softly brightening light of the Silver Sapling, its glow filtering through the cave like pale mist caught in leaves.
"I do not feel like making pottery today," he said aloud.
"That is fine," replied the Mountain. "The pots and bowls you made yesterday have already been moved into the new kilns and will take most of the day to complete. Though I had hoped you might gather a little more clay and shape some more raw pots and bowls to begin drying, just in case…"
"A shí of working clay, no more," he bargained. "I will add it to the daily chores."
"That will do," agreed his locus, sounding quietly satisfied. "The stew pot needs topping up, and the larger vegetables in your plot should be dug out — they are crowding one another. Take dried meat with you when you hunt, and some Vine fruit."
"So that is how the next few shí will pass," the young teen muttered, rising to splash cold water over his face from the narrow stream that flowed through the cave wall.
The water struck sharp and clean before settling into a smooth chill. Essence threaded through it in faint luminous strands that only his heightened perception could see.
How swiftly the wondrous became ordinary, Chún reflected as he washed in Essence-imbued water Consumers would slaughter for, within a cave of marvels Consumers would betray blood to claim, beneath the light of a living treasure tree Consumers would burn cities to possess.
He tied on his loincloth — about the only thing here unlikely to provoke a war, he thought wryly — lifted his Treasure Staff of the Night Sky, drew his Treasure Cloak of Unending Essence around his shoulders, and stepped out to take a freely given fruit that could raise any Consumer's realm. The air itself was thick with Essence mist, faintly luminous, and his own Essence stirred in quiet contentment as he breathed.
And yet he was bored of it.
Stories of pampered young heirs who grew restless amid wealth had once seemed absurd. Now he understood them a little — and he, of all people, had grown up with nothing.
He gave a short breath of amusement at himself. Unlike such silkpants, he had work to attend.
Harvesting, replenishing the stew pot, and gathering wood took half a shí. Thereafter he went to the creek bank and drew clay upward with Essence as he had the previous day, coaxing it from the mud in steady spirals until he had shaped six head-sized masses in half the former time.
He folded shards of failed dried clay and fragments of broken pottery back into the pliant mixture. Damp earth and mineral scent rose as he pressed the material smooth. Within a quarter-shí, the new forms rested in the drying pit to stiffen.
"Mountain," he called while rinsing clay from his hands and legs, brown rivulets curling away between stones, "you spoke of kilns — not a single kiln — when referring to today's firing. Why is that?"
"I separated each vessel into its own smaller kiln. If another explosion occurs, not all will be lost at once."
He nodded, sluicing water up his arms. "That seems sensible. It would not be worth the effort for me alone to do the same. Has anything gone wrong yet?"
"No. Everything is behaving much better this time."
Chún caught the faint note of pride and wisely left it alone.
"Is there anything else before I hunt?"
"Will you practise your Monkey Movement?"
"I will practise while hunting," he replied, binding his hair back with a rough strip of woven vine. "Chasing prey on foot no longer tests me. I will try to track and seize it while staying above the ground."
"Enjoy yourself."
"I intend to."
He dashed for the entrance of the Immortal's Cave where jerky, fruit, flask, cloak and staff waited.
Moments later he was airborne among the trees.
Branches bowed and snapped beneath his passing. Bark rasped under his palms. Leaves burst into green spray as wind roared in his ears, carrying the sharp scent of torn sap.
Monkey Movement flowed without conscious thought. His body shifted from branch to branch while Essence Sense spread outward in quiet vigilance — the tremor of rabbit, the heavier tread of boar, the faint musk of deer hidden among brush.
Twice he plucked edible greens mid-leap. Once he extended Essence to draw herbs gently toward him without disturbing their roots. Growth came swiftly in an Essence-rich land — yet stewardship remained his charge.
Before long warmth rose within him. Not discomfort — his cultivated body did not sweat — but the suggestion of exertion.
An idea formed.
"Friend?" he sent along the link, casually striking aside two poisonous centipedes — each twice the length of his leg and thick as two hand spans — as they sprang from a trunk he rebounded from.
Their chitin scraped dry and harsh. Mandibles snapped with a wet, venomous click, the acrid tang sharp in his nose even through the rushing wind. His staff met them with solid blows that jarred through his arms, flinging them into the undergrowth.
"Is there a waterfall nearby where I might wash? As I once did near your base?"
"There is. One of the stronger cascades lies roughly two hundred li from here, toward the Golden Crow birthplace."
"You mean East."
"Direction is a matter of reference. I am my own moon now."
He rolled his eyes. "Thick-Face Moon…"
"I possess no face," his locus replied evenly, though there was the faintest hint of dryness beneath the words.
Chún laughed. "Two hundred li? I will be there within a few fēn. It is fortunate that as you grow larger, I grow faster."
A small pause followed.
"If I were human, I might take offence."
"Oh? An Honourable Fatty is well regarded."
Several trees ahead trembled violently.
Chún barked laughter and vaulted above them, soon sighting the broad gleam of a river cutting through the forest.
He angled downward.
A silver streak fell into the river's heart.
Water erupted outward in a thunderous surge, hurling enormous fish upon both banks.
"Carp! Golden, Silver and Jade!" Chún burst from the collapsing wave as it crashed back upon him. He lunged and struck, scales flashing like minted coin in sunlight while heavy tails lashed at him. "Come to dinner!"
Bear Arm strikes landed true. Three of the fattest fish fell stunned before the rest escaped in furious splashes.
He whistled low in appreciation, casting the catch into his drenched sack and pouring Essence into the worn fabric to reinforce its weave. The fish thrashed heavily before subsiding.
"Tonight we dine like an Emperor," he declared, securing the sack to a rock so its lower half remained cooled in the current.
He turned toward a distant roar that shook the air.
"Time to bathe."
Two long bounds brought him to a li-deep chasm where the river hurled itself into emptiness with a roar like a thousand voices shouting as one.
Without hesitation he thrust his staff into the bank, hung his cloak upon it, and cast himself over the edge.
The first impact drove the breath from his lungs.
For a heartbeat the descending torrent struck like falling stone — then the crushing force settled into relentless pressure. Heavy. Immense. No longer harmful.
Chún laughed aloud.
"Best bath I have ever had!"
He braced himself beneath the torrent and began the ground aspects of Monkey Dao. Each step struck rock with enough force to fracture stone despite the slick moss. Water hammered his shoulders and skull; spray burst into silver mist around him.
After half a shí, he halted, chest heaving. Heat rolled from his skin so fiercely that droplets striking him hissed into brief steam before cascading away.
"I have improved at least a rank," he said with quiet satisfaction. "I shall train here again."
"I have extinguished the Fire beneath the drying pit," the Mountain informed him. "You need not hurry. Without Essence flame, the clay will require another shí to finish stiffening."
"Thank you, Mountain… there is something…"
The heightened sensitivity caused by the training let him notice it properly this time.
Not a hollow. Not a discord.
A concentration.
Where the waterfall shattered Essence into spray and mist, something beyond it did the opposite. Essence did not disperse there — it gathered. It layered. It compressed under sustained pressure, like sediment forced into stone over ages.
It was not louder than the waterfall.
It was heavier.
He closed his eyes.
He locked away the sensation of the pounding water. Locked away the vibration of stone beneath his feet. Locked away the strain in his muscles.
The compression remained.
Stable.
Dense.
Unmoving.
…there.
Turning with purpose, he faced the wall of the chasm the water crashed over and began walking.
After a moment, the crushing pressure of the waterfall vanished.
Chún opened his eyes and found himself standing in a small alcove hidden behind a dog-leg of stone outcropping that concealed it from all but the most deliberate inspection. The roar of the falls dulled into distant thunder.
An almost invisible fissure waited at the back of the alcove.
Sliding his body sideways through the narrow gap between the two walls, he felt the air change.
Cooler.
Drier.
Carrying the faint mineral bite of untouched stone.
His breath caught.
The cavern beyond glittered.
Essence Crystals filled the chamber in impossible profusion.
They did not leak power into the air like the Heaven and Earth Vine clearing. Instead, the Essence was bound — locked within geometric lattices that glowed from deep within their structures.
Some crystals were tiny, no larger than a finger or toe, each containing a tight, brilliant core of condensed light.
Others grew into long prismatic spines, angled and layered like frozen lightning.
And others still rose into monolithic pillars that ran the entire gamut of size and hue — reds like banked embers, blues like deep water under moonlight, greens like compressed forest canopy, golds so dense they seemed almost metallic in weight. Each radiated contained intensity, as though every facet pressed inward against itself.
Light fractured across the cavern walls and ceiling, scattering into shards that painted his skin in shifting colour.
"What is… What is this?"
"The result of sustained compression," replied his locus in its usual steady tone. "When Essence gathers in one place long enough, and grows dense enough, it begins to solidify. Even the smallest of these contains Essence comparable to a thousand Essence Stones drawn from an Essence Beast. These regions stabilise the Manifestation Daos forming within me. You should tread carefully."
Chún's breath sucked in explosively.
The wealth surrounding him was beyond measure.
A moment later, reason returned.
"These are useless to me, brother. If I tried to trade even the smallest fragment, I would be drowned in Consumers trying to kill, torture, or strip every secret from me to learn its source. And I have nothing to use them for."
He scanned the towering chamber again, the vastness of it pressing in.
"But… Mountain? We are hidden, yes — but surely you do not leave a treasure like this unguarded? I cannot be everywhere. If Consumers ever found this, they would die by the thousands to rip it from you."
"They would try."
The grinding voice reverberated through the cavern, layered with the heavy, tectonic sound of crystal shifting against crystal under immense pressure.
One of the largest pillars moved.
Facets ground together slowly, grinding like stone under continental pressure.
Angles shifted along invisible stress lines that had not moved in centuries.
What had been a seamless monolith divided into articulated sections without ever ceasing to be crystal.
Mass rose.
Reconfigured.
The sound of its movement was not swift — it was inevitable.
A towering humanoid construct stood where the pillar had been, its surface composed of interlocking planes of mineral light.
"They would die."
Chún froze and bowed hastily — as low as the uneven floor allowed.
"Honoured Guardian. I meant no disrespect. I spoke only from concern for my friend."
There was a long grinding sound.
For a heartbeat he wondered if it were movement.
Then he realised — it was laughter.
Not warm. Not mocking.
Merely structural resonance shifting through vast crystalline mass.
Light refracted briefly across its inner planes before the voice sounded again.
"You are known to us, Cultivator. Trial parameters available."
Chún straightened slowly, head tilting.
"Trial?"
A faint internal refraction passed through the construct's body — recalibration rather than expression.
"Condition: displace construct by one measured step. Reward: allocation of one crystal."
Chún blinked.
"I do not need — wait…" His eyes sharpened slightly. "You mean a spar, Honoured Guardian?"
"Affirmative."
He flicked his awareness along the link.
"Friend, is this your doing?"
"Crystal constructs arise naturally when sufficient mass and lattice coherence develop," the Mountain replied calmly. "They guard their substrate and do not depart it. They are inclined to test those who enter their domain. When a crystal is won through challenge, excess lattice is naturally removed. It is a method of pruning that maintains balance without weakening the structure. You may consider this… a fortunate opportunity for one who walks the Jiānghú."
The explanation was delivered in its ordinary tone, without urgency or concern.
Chún inhaled slowly.
"Honoured Guardian. I do not seek reward. I seek refinement. If you are willing to spar… I would be honoured by your guidance."
He bowed again.
The cavern stilled.
Then the construct moved.
Its arm extended — not by muscle, but by geometric reconfiguration. Segments telescoped outward and locked into a spear of condensed crystal that drove into the ground where Chún had stood a heartbeat earlier.
It struck like a small mountain peak crashing to earth.
Stone exploded outward in jagged shards. The impact boomed through the cavern and echoed back in rolling thunder.
"Trial initiated."
Chún hurled himself backward, heart hammering, feet skidding across fractured crystal dust.
The tip drove through the space he had occupied a breath before.
"Oh… son of a…!"