"Hu Jia, why did the Dean suddenly summon us?" Wu Hao asked, voice low, brow creasing as he glanced at the bright, bold woman leaning against the pavilion pillar—Hu Jia, all smiles and mischief, currently pestering Xiao Er with obvious familiarity.
"Who knows?" Hu Jia replied with a lazy grin, sliding a hand toward Xun'er's shoulder as if the gesture were the most natural thing in the world. "Xun'er, I heard you've broken through again recently. How enviable—show off a little for your old sister."
"Sister Hu Jia, you jest." Xun'er took a small, careful step back, the edge of her smile polite but distant. The contact made her uneasy; not from any ill intent, but because the summons had been abrupt and the air felt electric with expectation.
She hadn't wanted to come. The notice said all students cultivating fire-attribute Dou Qi with notable aptitude must report to the main square; Xun'er had been practicing alone, tracing tempering firelines on the anvil until dawn. Yet her mentor's voice had carried a note of gravity—an opportunity she could not ignore.
Now, standing in the crowd, Xun'er felt that gravity like a soft weight on her chest. Around her, the square thrummed with whispers—curiosity passed from face to face like a current.
"No, this isn't right." Wu Hao's voice dropped further; his eyes skimmed the crowd. "Even the inner academy geniuses are here—Lin Xiuya, Liu Qing…"
Xun'er's gaze followed his. Two figures walked through the central gate with the measured arrogance only inner academy elites seemed to cultivate. They radiated the polished confidence of those used to privilege. Their presence sharpened the atmosphere, as if the very stones underfoot had stiffened in salute.
Hu Jia's playful grin stiffened; the hand that had drifted toward Xun'er slid away like a withdrawn blade. Even she, mischief incarnate, read the room and straightened.
Elder Su Qian and Hu Gan led a dozen elders into the square. The crowd hushed as the senior masters' Dou Qi settled over them like a slow-moving cloud. Where the elders passed, students instinctively bowed; even rustling fabric seemed to quiet.
Xun'er watched their faces—men who rarely betrayed emotion—now showing an almost childlike flicker of anticipation. Her heart, trained to steady beats by many nights of tempering and study, skipped at that sight. Opportunity had teeth; students could not afford to be careless.
Elder Su Qian's voice carried clear as a bell. "Today, I have gathered you all for one matter: the Artifact Refiner inheritance."
"Artifact Refiner?"
"What is that profession?" someone called, voice thin with curiosity.
The square erupted—questions hurled into the air like sparks. Elders' brows knitted. Elder Su Qian let the murmurs die. When a Dou Zong drew breath, the crowd fell silent as if listening for thunder.
"Artifact Refiners," Elder Su Qian said, measured and precise, "are a noble craft. They stand alongside the Yakushi—not as pillmasters, but as forgers of Spirit Tools: weapons, armor, devices. Spirit Tools are graded in nine tiers. A high-tier Refiner's status equals that of a Yakushi of the same tier."
Murmurs swelled into a roar of disbelief. "How is that possible?!"
"They can stand shoulder to shoulder with Yakushi? Impossible!"
"I've never even heard of such an inheritance."
Hu Gan stepped closer, authority sharpening his tone. "Five days ago, the Academy received twenty-four Artifact Refiner inheritance jade slips from the Sacrificial Shop. Several elders have verified them."
"The Sacrificial Shop?" The name cut through the clamor like a blade. Conversation stilled. Though the Shop had not fully opened, its reputation wandered ahead of it—murmurs of incredible supplies, of patrons whose Dou Qi rippled like storms. The memory of Elder Jin's breakthrough, when the ground had seemed to hum, lingered still.
Anticipation glittered in many young faces. Some inhaled sharply as hope rose.
Elder Su Qian continued, Dou Qi humming at the edges of his words. "Twenty-four jade slips—half reserved for teachers, half for students. The selection assessment begins immediately. Three tests. Fail any one and you are eliminated."
In the testing ground, the students lined up like a string of beads; each breath measured, each step careful. Xun'er bowed her head to the small booklet recently distributed—Basic Artifact Refiner Knowledge—yet her eyes came up again and again to the soul-testing stele.
The stele stood black and silent like a patient judge. Embedded at its crown was a strange reddish ore, a vein of metal that lived beneath its skin. At the base of the stele, a shallow metal tray caught stray spirit residues. Only those who could meet the stele's requirements would pass.
"First item: spirit power test." A presiding elder's voice rolled. "Place your palm upon the stele and inject spirit power. Those whose light patterns illuminate thirty percent or more qualify."
Hu Jia surged forward, impatience crackling in every motion. "This young lady will go first!" she announced, pressing her palm dramatically to the stone. Spirit power flowed like a tide—hot, brash, young—and the light on the stele blazed in segmented waves until it steadied at forty percent.
"Qualified," the elder said with a curt nod. "Next: perceive the ore's internal pattern and replicate the clearest one upon the soul-testing plate."
Hu Jia's triumphant smile faltered. She closed her eyes and dove, shambling as she groped inside the ore's hidden structures. Her hands trembled. Sweat beaded on her forehead; the red light stuttered on the plate and finally etched a jagged, interrupted line.
"Material perception—barely up to standard," the elder commented, tone unkindly neutral. "Proceed."
When Xun'er's turn came, she stepped forward as if stepping into quiet water. Her fingertip tapped the stele surface with deliberate gentleness. Spirit power entered like a cool spring, precise and steady. The light climbed, surpassing fifty percent and finally settling at sixty-five.
"Spirit power—excellent," the elder acknowledged, eyes widening. "Now, replicate the ore's internal pattern."
Xun'er closed her eyes and breathed. A filament of spirit power extended, fine as silk, and threaded through the ore's interior. She read its veins as if reading an old friend's palm. Minutes might have passed; seconds slid like beads.
When she drew back, the red light on the stele traced a clear, straight pattern—neater than the ore's own labyrinth. A ripple of admiration went through the waiting students; Xun'er had not only matched the ore—she had refined its pattern in spirit.
"Material perception is excellent," the elder said, almost in wonder. Xun'er's throat fluttered with a small, private thrill. For reasons she barely understood, the ore's internal lines had spoken to her easily, with an intimacy that made her fingers ache to work metal.
Perhaps, she thought with a flash of guilty joy, artisanship might be a path after all.
The second test moved the successful twenty-plus candidates into a special refining chamber. Each student faced a towering iron pillar, its surface grooved with intricate channels. At the top, an unrefined ore hunched like a sleeping beast.
"As an Artifact Refiner, precise flame control is essential," the elder instructed. "You must melt the ore and guide the metal solution along the grooves. Two rules: the melt must remain pure—no impurities—and the flow must be accurate."
Hu Jia bristled, impatience setting her hand alight. She thrust flames at the ore; temperature leapt violently. Surface melted, then spattered, then internal fissures split as heat rushed in uneven. The molten metal, clouded by slag, sloshed half the groove and turned glassy too soon.
"Flame control is crude," the elder pronounced with disappointment. "Next."
Xun'er, by contrast, breathed slowly. She wrapped the ore in a gentle halo of warmth, letting heat seep through like sunlight through glass. Her flame was not a furnace but a patient hand; the metal softened evenly, then flowed like molten gold. She guided it with a steady pressure of spirit, and each groove filled without blemish.
"Control—perfect," the elder said, voice trembling, surprise thinly veiled as respect. The purity of the metal, the accuracy of its path—each aspect mastered.
Around the chamber, other students watched with mouths slightly open. Xun'er's reputation for beauty had long preceded her; now she displayed a skill that was quietly terrifying.
Only eight candidates passed the first two rounds. They were led to the forging area, each to face a block of dark raw iron and a simple dagger blueprint.
Elder Su Qian's voice cut the air. "Refining is unlike alchemy. Artifacts must have form—but above all, quality. Forge this dagger within the time it takes one stick of incense to burn. Fail, and you are eliminated."
At his gesture, a single stick of incense materialized, smoke ribboning into the sky. The scent was faint but sharpened nerves like a bell.
Han Yue, an inner academy prodigy, slammed an iron hammer with broad strokes. Sparks flew; a rough blade emerged but its edge uneven, like a voice cracking in a song. She cursed under her breath and poured Dou Qi into a last furious temper; the dagger took shape, usable but raw.
Xun'er moved with an almost prayerful calm. She placed her hand on the iron and felt the metal's song—veins, grain, the place where it wished to fold into blade. A small surge of spirit heat appeared on her fingertip; she did not strike but guided. Each tap of her small hammer altered molecule and memory with surgical precision.
The blade emerged not rugged but singing—a cold gleam humming on the edge like a clear note. When Elder Su Qian flicked it between his fingers, the sound that rang was astonishing in its clarity.
"What sharpness!" he breathed. "Almost a first-tier weapon."
He looked at Xun'er with a new light in his eyes. "Have you specialized in forging before?"
Xun'er bowed slightly. "Student merely perceived the most suitable context—veins, structure—for the iron to become a dagger, and followed its nature to release it."
"A genius," Elder Su Qian murmured, the words small and weighty all at once. "Your understanding of metal is almost instinctive. The Sacrificial Shop spoke true: Artifact Refiners can be of nine tiers. With your talent, you will likely ascend quickly."
When the final results were declared, Xun'er's name was among the chosen. She accepted the jade slip containing the basic refining blueprints with hands that trembled not from fear but from a sudden, soft joy.
Alone for a beat, she remembered the regret that had long sat like a stone—the path to becoming a Yakushi closed to her for lack of wood affinity. Now, the refining path opened like a seam in the world. Her fingers traced the jade's cool surface.
"Xiao Yan Ge Ge rose through alchemy..." she whispered to herself, voice small. "Then I will walk with him on the path of refining."
Hu Jia blinked, then forced a laugh that did not reach her eyes. "Well, someone's got talent—don't be shy, Xun'er, teach us when you have time."
Lin Xiuya, who had stood aloof in the back, finally stepped forward, voice smooth as polished jade. "Talent alone is not enough. Refining demands temperament: patience, restraint, and the humility to listen to the metal. We'll see whether these students possess more than raw aptitude."
Liu Qing folded her arms, eyes narrow slits. "If any think the jade slip guarantees them a future, they are mistaken. The slip is a key, not a throne."
Their words, meant to temper excitement, only fanned it into a focused, burning ember. Students sharpened themselves by the heat of competition—some like needles, some like dull stones.
Elder Hu Gan approached Xun'er with a measured pace. "Child," he said, voice softer than before, "you have an unusual perception. Cultivate it carefully. Artifact refining is not merely technique; it is an artist's life. It requires devotion."
Xun'er bowed. "I will work hard, Grand Elder."
Hu Gan's eyes held a hint of something like approval. "Then prepare. I will assign mentors and workshops. For those chosen, the Academy will invest."
The chosen students were guided into a hushed hall where the jade slips would be distributed. Each slip glowed faintly in the low light, its characters carved in a script older than most textbooks. Holding one felt like holding an invitation—the chance to learn a craft that could change lives.
"Remember," Elder Su Qian called as the last of the selected filed out, "refining can temper a man's fate as easily as metal. Use it well."
As night fell, the forging halls burned brighter than usual. Students who had been eliminated returned to their dorms with new irons in the fire—pangs of regret, but also a fuel that would push them harder tomorrow.
Xun'er lingered beneath a brazier long after others left. Her fingers traced the jade slip's edge. In the glow, she pictured the future: long hours at the anvil, heat singing her thoughts into shapes; a life of quiet mastery. Beside that image, unconsciously, stood Xiao Yan Ge Ge—his laughter, the scent of his alchemy lab, the way he had once shown her a misforged blade and said, "Refining is an art of conversation with matter."
She smiled, small and certain. The road ahead would be long and lonely at times, but also full of possibility.
Outside, in the academy's courtyard, the whispers rolled on. Students debated tactics, argued about mentors, and planned their training schedules. Hu Jia already boasted loudly about the lessons she'd demand. Lin Xiuya and Liu Qing, for all their early coldness, found themselves cornered by eager apprentices seeking advice.
The Sacrificial Shop's involvement hummed at the edge of every conversation like a far-off chiming bell. For some, it was fortune; for others, a threat. Yet the refining inheritance—age-old patterns translated into modern blueprints—had given the Academy a spark. Whether it would become fire or ash depended on the hands that held the hammer.
Xun'er rose and walked back to her dorm with steady steps. Under the moonlight, the jade slip winked faintly at her pocket, a small, private star. She folded it carefully into the inner lining of her robe and, as the courtyard's shadows lengthened, whispered to the empty night, "I will not waste this chance."
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