Data-Driven Daoist

Chapter 21: Elder Scribe

“The Sect owns this slice of the world,” Duan Xiaolong said after receiving them at the dock “From the clouds in the sky to the eels hiding in holes in the rice fields.” He pointed at each of the recruits. “Your bodies, your souls, your future accomplishments.”

They had gotten off the Drizzle, having been the first to arrive. Within an hour, the remaining six Drizzles also reached the village, and now all the recruits stood in the rain.

The pitter-patter didn’t drown out Duan Xiaolong’s voice. It only seemed to accentuate it, backdropped by the chants coming from the nearby river god temple.

As the rain fell, the fresh scent of mud and grass tickled Yu Han’s nose. He could also smell the burning incense and the soot from the oil lamps.

“In return, the Sect will nurture you. Give you words, riches, and strength of your own, from Cultivation Arts to Spirit Stones. And finally, a chance to own part of the Sect itself.” Duan Xiaolong crossed his arms. His monkey, Little Pillar, hopped from one foot to another, swinging the staff above his head like a helicopter. “So, first order of business, scribe your names. From mice, you become men.”

So now we’re merely employees of the corporation. Maybe soon we can be shareholders. Yu Han patted his shoulders. The rain chased away all the mosquitoes, but he itched. Perhaps there were other bugs that bit. How soon? How many shares?

Johan had an amazing portfolio. Much of it was because of undiscovered insider trading, and the rest came from manipulation. I have to verify this.

Duan Xiaolong took a step back, and another silhouette stepped forward. It was a wiry man with a thin moustache, and a long, silky beard that reached his torso. He had sunken eyes and large black irises.

Whereas Duan Xiaolong stood in the rain, letting the world wash him, this man had an invisible shield that bounced the raindrops off. Even in the downpour, he was pristine and dry.

The recruits stirred. If not an immortal spell, what else could this be? Shock, awe, and surprise radiated out in murmurs.

Yu Han wore simple straw sandals, and his feet were covered with thick mud. They felt slippery between his toes. And he hadn’t had a good bath in weeks.

The wiry man took out a brush and a scroll. He waved his hand and a Talent Orb appeared, floating midair.

“I am the Ninth Scribe Official of the Outer Sect, and the Elder in charge of this year’s Rookie Village. You may call me Elder Scribe,” the man said. “You shall stay here for the upcoming two weeks, until all the recruits arrive. After this, we shall journey to the Outer Sect, where most of you shall live your entire lives.”

He let go of the scroll, and it hung midair as if by a magical force. He wrote on it with a brush. “Unless you take a long-term external mission. Or betray the Sect, or are perhaps excommunicated. Few reach the inner Sect, and fewer still become Core Disciples. Whatever the case, it all depends on your talent and hard work. Form a line in front of the Orb.”

The recruits formed a line. They had tested their talents once before.

Why are they doing it aga—? Ah. We were tested by Qiao Jinhai, not anyone of the Stormy Reef Sect. Of course they’d want to ascertain facts themselves.

The first recruit timidly walked forward. It was the girl from Yu Han’s hometown, Guo Yexi.

She was a squeamish little thing and always looked at Yu Han with fright or disdain. But now, after all this time, it was a nostalgic sight. Only some months and weeks had passed, but it felt like years. He really was in another world.

Guo Yexi reached forward. Duan Xiaolong coughed, and the girl shrank back.

“The proper beginnings, Elder Scribe,” Duan Xiaolong said.

The wiry man narrowed his beady eyes at Duan Xiaolong.

There’s tension between them. Maybe this sect has different competing factions? If so, that’s good for me. Yu Han, or rather, Johan thrived in internal competition. He was the type to offend others easily, so wiggling his way into a powerful faction was paramount.

“This is no longer the Sect you once knew.” Duan Xiaolong said to Elder Scribe, holding his ground. “The reefs has been shredded by the claws of the mist, whilst the nobles lay crying.” He took a step forward, and an invisible pressure shook the curtain of rainfall. “Speak the proper beginnings.”

Whatever invisible shield was protecting Elder Scribe from the rain seemed to turn off for a second, and he was drenched in water. But the man snorted, and the water dried off.

“Your Traits and Levels shall be noted. For the exceptionally gifted, there shall be rewards. For the diligent too, you will receive your due. Although I doubt you would break through the first bottleneck so easily, no matter how diligent you are.”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The pressure went away, and Duan Xiaolong stepped back.

Guo Yexi touched the orb. It lit up with the ever so familiar red light.

After each recruit tested their talents, the Scribe would mutter some words to them. Their lips would move, but no sound would reach through the rain. The Scribe would tap the orb, then send the recruit to wait at the side.

Some kind of sound-blocking magic?

About one in ten would have Refined Talent, making the orb glow orange. Each time, Elder Scribe would bear an expression of approval and write for longer than usual.

How long is that scroll?

Li Yao had his turn. Then finally, it was Yu Han’s turn.

“A Bloodline. What is it?”

“Deep Writhing Clam Bloodline,” Yu Han answered.

The Scribe clicked his tongue. “Perhaps gained rather than inherited. Any past cultivators in the family? What is your profession?”

“Not that I know of, sir,” Yu Han said. “My parents ran a seafood diner.”

“Then gained it is.” Elder Scribe wrote something. He looked over Yu Han head to toe. “You shall not have the chance to be so gluttonous in the Sect—although it may be what caused you to gain the Trait.”

Is he calling me fat? Yu Han clenched his fist.

“Any Bloodline Arts?”

“Deep Sleep.”

Arts:

[Deep Sleep]

Type: Bloodline

Grade: Mortal Level 1

Mastery: Initial Step Level 1

True Qi: 107 (+4)/200

[Echoing Dreamscape]

Type: Auxiliary

Grade: Mortal Level 9

Mastery: Initial Step Level 3

True Qi: 50 (+5)/400

“Nor shall you be slothful. The heavens bless you with talent to cultivate, but curse you with mediocrity.” Elder Scribe smiled. “What is the use of having a thousand ants when one tiger can cull millions?”

Geez, thanks. Whatever faction the Scribe was from, Yu Han would call HR about it. Maybe it was the stereotypical noble faction? Was Duan Xiaolong a commoner, then? Qiao Jinhai had called him a barbarian from the wastelands.

Yu Han didn’t bring up Echoing Dreamscape. He might get a reward for it, but he would rather keep some cards close to hand. Same with Existential Anchor. He couldn’t explain why it didn’t show up in the Talent test, nor did he know what the Trait was even for, other than the fact it granted him an Auxiliary Art that only worked with Deep Sleep.

“We are done. Move to the side.”

“Do not miss steps,” Duan Xiaolong growled.

“Young Master Duan, do you have to be so tedious?” Elder Scribe said. “How can this obese child pass the first bottleneck before reaching the Sect? I am merely hastening the process.”

The blue monkey chirped. It was a familiar sound before violence.

“Fine.” Elder Scribe snorted. He tapped the orb without looking at it, turning to face Duan Xiaolong. “Look. What a waste of time.” He gestured at the orb.

Duan Xiaolong’s face tensed. “Turn your head. Do not dare insult a Core Disciple.”

“Huh?” Elder Scribe shrunk back. This was the first time he’d shown fear. He looked at the Talent Orb, then at Yu Han’s face with a dark scowl.

“Child, have you passed your tribulation?”

Yu Han nodded. If they knew, they knew. No need to deny the obvious and appear more suspicious. He snuck a glance at Duan Xiaolong.

Was that a nod? Yu Han rubbed his eyes. The spikey-haired cultivator had already looked away.

“How?” the Scribe roared. “What Tribulation was—” The man caught himself, then threw a suspicious glance at Duan Xiaolong. “It matters not. Do not utter the name of the Tribulation, lest you bring bad luck on all of us!”

He snorted, then wrote more words down. “Unbelievable. For the first of this batch to be this thing. What is the world coming to? Child, what was your Heavenly Allocation?”

“Mind.”

“Ha! Look at this, the heavens truly mock you!” Elder Scribe said as he wrote more. “With Common Talent, Mortal Grade Qi Affinity, do you even have a chance at reaching the Foundation Building Realm? Young Master Duan, the reward is wasted on such a unique specimen. Let us merely grant him spirit stones and reserve the reward for someone—”

“Break the rules and find out.”

“Young Master, let us be logical. How can someone with a Mind Allocation for his first level up ever hope to utilise the rewarded Elite Grade Martial Arts? The rewards mention nothing of granting Psychic Arts, as even the least of those are far above this child’s level.”

“His fate is his. None shall be allowed to intervene.”

“It is a waste!”

“You dare call the rules a waste? I am sure the Law Enforcement Hall would love to learn of that, Ninth Scribe. If you want another dismissal, this Duan will pave the way.”

Elder Scribe fumed. He pointed at Duan Xiaolong, then at Yu Han. “You, you. Fine.”

He threw something at Yu Han. It was a token with a strange character on top. He couldn’t read it, but it looked familiar. It was the same strange script his lost booklet had.

“It shall grant you an incense stick’s access to the first floor of the Scripture Hall in the outer Sect, or a day’s access to the smaller library in the Rookie Village. You may choose one Elite Grade Martial Art from there. Now scram, you unpleasant creature.”

Yu Han scrammed and joined those waiting.

“Tubs, did that guy bully you?” Li Yao asked. “You guys were talking for longer.”

“He and Duan Xiaolong seem to have some animosity,” Yu Han said, avoiding giving a clear answer.

“Keep your secrets, then.”

Yu Han remembered how Li Yao had guarded him on the Drizzle. “I’ll tell you later.” He gestured around. “We’re not the only ones with ears.”

The taller boy grinned, then stepped back. Through the curtain of the rain, Yu Han saw a figure running from the river god temple to join the line.

Is that Huang Niuniu?

“Your fate is yours, tiger who wears a pig’s skin,” a voice said. “But it is the fault of the deer for having delicious flesh that attracts a predator. This Duan Xiaolong has some tips for the strange junior.”

Yu Han straightened his back. Duan Xiaolong was looking at the recruit line still, lips unmoving. He was speaking directly into Yu Han’s ears.

“You may rightfully exchange the token for an appropriate price. None may force you. Have it written in blood and ink. Understood?”

Yu Han’s lips quivered, but he didn’t speak. Merely nodded.

“Can you read?”

Yu Han nodded.

“Imperial Script?”

Yu Han shook his head.

“Earthly Script?”

He shook his head again.

“Common, then. For White Lotus, it would be the Yellow tongue. It matters not. They are mostly the same.”

Yu Han nodded like his neck was broken.

“Don’t choose the Scripture Hall.”

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