The morning training gongs and drum beats had just rung. Their deep notes filled the Azure Spirit Sect's mountains. Being tossed forth with waves against a huge boulder. Mopping up polished floors, the vaster wooden chamber of many circulars whose unordered geometric lines formed stars inside circles. The smell of pine resin and burnt incense clung in one's nostrils.
Team-form drills now.
For most Outer Sector disciples, this was the most dreaded day. One-on-one fighting was easy - your own fists, your own sword, and your own qì against another person's. But formations required cooperation, a feeling for rhythm, and trust. For those without strong factions or friends, failure was almost inevitable. And Lin Xuan, as always, stood in the center of the whispered discussion.
"Yesterday, I hear he humiliated Zhao Kun in public again."
"No—three of Zhao Kun's sophomorics. At the same time."
"Male servitors? He's using a sorcery or martial technique. Would anyone learn that quickly?"
"—I still haven't seen him myself yet. But he must have been calm as a mountain."
The whispers followed into the hall like shadows and Lin Xuan took no notice. His spear lay against a wall by two of his hands. Wu Ming slunk at his side, carrying on about his hands and muttering.
"Senior Brother, I have a bad feeling about this," Wu Ming said in a low voice. "Formations are all about teamwork. And you can take it from me—I excel at eating, falling over, and sleeping. None of these is much help when it comes to formations at all!"
"Then don't fall over," said calmly.
"You idiot," said Wu Ming despairingly. "That – of all the things he does – is actually the hardest for me."
The instructor with iron-gray hair came in. His cheek was scarred and his voice boomed like thunder as one of the outer sect disciples groaned, 'Seven Star Array! You'll be split up into seven-member teams. Merit will be recorded for the group with the most stable energy circulation. Those who underachieve, using bad force in place of good, will be penalized.'
Explosive sighs of relief sounded from the crowd. A day's worth of punishment usually involved twice the work - scrubbing steps, hauling logs, or feeding the spirit beasts that the sect raised and supported. The squads were called out by name. Clustering together, the more powerful disciples mingled their factional alliances so as to have a smooth synergy. But when Lin Xuan's name was spoken, the weak were paired up with him - scattered disciples who did not even get backing, let alone training or faith. Whispers of doubt rose to a crescendo, each one more or less an accusation of cheating.
"Of course they set us up."
"He is doomed. Let's see how the cripple will hang chickens."
"Meng Zhao's hand is too obvious."
Senior Brother Wu Ming flapped his arms like a frightened bird. "Look at them! One is coughing, one is shaking, and one looks like he hasn't eaten for a week!"
The lanky farmer disciple standing against Lin Xuan came out. His poultry style was ungainly; aware of this, he frowned with all his might and then laughed: laughing at his ineptitude even as he tried to better himself. His two small hick disciples, just recently created and awkwardly moving to a raised stand, Wu Tai. Past indifference had turned him into quite a capable novice golden-boot fisherman and instead very itinerant over the years, with not an idea as to what way was working best. Lin Xuan himself. Trash. That was the crowd's evaluation.
Those delicately dry lips curved slightly as Lin Xuan thought: Trash can only become people if it is then fired in the right way.
---
The test begins. Wu Zhao's lackeys performed almost flawlessly in the Star Bound pattern, beautifully using Crane Step footwork to trace arcs. Their qi moved within them as steady as a heartbeat, bright and well balanced.
"Perfect!"
One person sighs with passion. "They're already like core disciples, Meng Zhao's men."
Just as the other squads completed the pattern drawn by Etched Star Nine, seven disciples stood at the starting point. Their footsteps synchronized, qi began to swing--faint light rays emanating up in their wake. There's cheering in a small town I've seen too many qigong freaks, seven to a bar, and it's called for his disciples.
"When Lin Xuan's squad stepped onto the lines, laughter rang through the hall."
Their qi flared unevenly--in one corner, bright and filled with quiet dignity around another corner, it sputtered like water beaten back by rocks. Masters of martial arts nicked open any breach in the defensive line. The stances were broken. A boy's foot missed the triangular line entirely. The formation fell apart within moments, lines of light dissipating like smoke. Snickers spread.
"Pathetic!
"Let's see now how long the fisherman lasts."
Senior Brother Wu Ming hissed to Lin Xuan, "Senior brother, we are like seven drunks dancing around a chicken coop!"
Lin Xuan did not speak. But his eyes flickered, like lightning crossing the sky.
[System Notice: Formation Disruption Detected. Errors: Breathing out of sync; steps are not harmonious; mutual qi relations are uneven.]
[Analysis Implementable. Adjustments suggested.]
Who tripped? We now have an adult male in Bukkaku Lecousin's uniform transgressing according to M's theory, Katrenka and dinosaurs living at the same geological age. But it's her own tombstone this time.
Lin Xuan said very quietly, "Breathe more slowly. Inhale for three counts, exhale for three counts. While stepping on the heel and going forward, and now... you raise your sword arm.
In order to insight that his way is Torah -- acting as a "bridge" to a far thicker thick soup! He knows what word is latch to Freud, and then adjusts not screaming, but degree one movement here, time correction other there.
Has he been so successful every time? Will Constance still be willing to have a man for her uncle? She grinned impudently and winked in my Inport and Export Corporation business was Hajime Susa, Hiroshi Tomiku.
The others hesitated. But as they obeyed, something changed. Only this instead, they stepped. Now the compasses glowing with dim arcs beneath their feet were beginning to light up. The formation throbbed-no longer strong, but still, steady enough to stand. Okay.
[Note] Wu Ming wrenched himself from the mire as does that former deadbeat drug dealer. The crowd paused mid-chuckle.
"Wait - But those people are all going to what,"
"The formation hasn't?"
"How is that possible?"
"They're the weakest squad!"
The light seared forward. Qi sure valves were installed between them as complete. Established in an unforeseen place, the Sevens Formation opened for its first time.
Scar of the instructor lifted when Wu Ming stumbled in mid-step, gasping, "Senior Brother… What on earth did you do? We feel like we're a single hole, her experimentation."
With a scarcely discernible narrowing of his pupil, Lin Xuan says, "A formation is like a person. It only falls when struck off-balanced. If you correct it, hens can all gain momentum and take water in flight."
Your squad not only steadied - the flow of qi became even brighter than Meng Zhao's team. The hall went silent. Numerous disciples stared.
"Impossible.
"So, whatever kind of rubbish it starts out."
Shock ran from his lips. "This man… he really can form up a junior martial brother into a formation genius?"
When the instructor says, "Stop right there!"
But the whispers did not stop.
---
The instructor came on, an unreadable face. At the same time, his voice was as flat as it always is perfect to deal with.
"This team is good."
Seventh among the eleven members passed–higher than most of you.
Gasps. Envious glances.
Wu Ming flung his arms into the air like a triumphal fool. "Did you see that!? From seven chickens to seven stars! Senior Brother Lin, you are a miracle worker!"
This time, the response was laughter. No cruelty, simply astonishment.
From the back, Meng Zhao watched with his teeth clenched.
So trash can be made into an Array. What then, when the student is truly talented? What then, when an establishment stands behind you? No, I cannot let this seed take root.
His hand became a fist.
After a while, Lin Xuan, I'll take care to make your brilliance the rope that strangles you.
As the disciples left, Lin Xuan also went off, carrying his spear on his back. Whispers followed him like shadows, some in awe, more in envy–but not a single person could ignore him.
Wu Ming ran alongside him, grinning from ear to ear. "Senior Brother, admit it–you are secretly an old formation master reborn!"
Lin Xuan smiled slightly. "If I were, should I tell you?"
Wu Ming exclaimed. "So you are!"
But Lin Xuan shook his head. Only inside was he thinking coldly, **"The sect is watching. Meng Zhao is sharpening his knife. And I have shown far too much already. Next time I must be more careful."
Yet as he thought this, his heart knew: it was too late. The whispers of the cripple were turning into a clamor. In the eyes of the sect, trash Lin Xuan had become something else entirely now. He was a rising storm.