Writeathon Status: 31 Chapters, 65,841 Words
Lin Tao kept calm even as the elder politely accused the Rising Tide Sect of being scammers. Cultivators naturally had pride in their sect and didn’t suffer insults gladly. Lin Tao’s natural inclination, therefore, was to lash out.
But he’d had training. A lot of training. Anyone who wanted to lead an outpost had to undergo many, many hours of lectures, field work, and practice scenarios. The technical stuff had, obviously, come easy to him, but the rest had been challenging.
A large portion of the course was acting with empathy instead of instantly resorting to “you insulted me and now you must die,” especially when dealing with mortals. Having been raised in a town and having spent only a couple of years in a sect helped.
If he, as a mortal, had been approached by a man selling an elixir that promised longer life and superpowers and for the low cost of only a fraction of a tael, Lin Tao would have naturally suspected the man to be a thief. To the elders, he was selling just that elixir. What he was providing was simply too good to be true.
Fortunately, the proper response to the man’s accusation had been drilled into Lin Tao.
“Do you believe in karma?”
The elder frowned, obviously suspecting a trick but not knowing how to move forward.
“Rising Tide Sect members are big believers in karma,” Lin Tao said. “In some sects, the only way to become a member or to advance is to have highly ranked spiritual roots. Those definitely help even in my sect, but good karma is a necessity if one wants to advance to leadership positions.”
He took his tablet, tapped a couple of menu options, and pointed the sensor at himself. The display read:
5,416
Lin Tao showed the result to the council members. “That’s my karma score, and it took a lot of work to get it so high. Being kind and polite to everyone gives a small gain every day, but to get over a couple of thousand at my age, I had to really pay attention to how I treated people and to my motivations. One small negative action can really tank the score, you know?
“Of course, avoiding negative acts was only one component. For example, being part of something big that changes hundreds of thousands of lives is a big boost. The IDTA portal network was already in place when I joined the sect, obviously, but just my work on one important subroutine boosted me. And when I installed portals at villages and towns just like I did today, I also got a small percentage of the overall karma gained from those.
“The absolute massive payoff, however, will come from me leading this outpost. If all goes well, I’ll be over ten thousand in a year, and that’s not even counting the contribution points.”
He made sure to look that elder in the eyes. “You see us giving away something and getting nothing in return. We see it as a true win-win. Your lives will be improved, and specifically because of you experiencing that result, we’ll gain very valuable increase in karma.”
Lin Tao actually kind of hated how mercenary that way of describing things made his actions sound, like all he cared about were the karma points. And he did care about those and his contribution point, but he also actually wanted to make the lives of these people better. His town certainly had improved so, so much after the IDTA portal had been established there, and he found it incredibly satisfying that he was a part of bringing that change to others.
But the mission leaders had been adamant about how to handle his current situation. When people heard “free,” they had a bad reaction. Free meant they were being scammed or the product wasn’t worth anything. When they heard that the sect was getting payment from them but just in a form they had no knowledge of, it set them at ease.
No completely and not immediately, of course. They’d still look at the situation with suspicion. But that was okay. After days or weeks or months or even years of only good things coming, they’d eventually come around. The important thing for the moment was that they at least be open to others in the village giving the outpost a chance.
The man who had been so agitated calmed slightly and offered a bow and his apologies, after which Lin Tao continued the tour.
“The next room on the right is the merchant’s shop. It will remain closed until your village has more currency to spend. Its wares won’t be any different than what is found at any other outpost, however, so having it open is simply a convenience. You can always hop through the portals to access another store.”
“Gratitude, Esteemed Cultivator,” Jin Jianjun said.
The mayor’s tone was much more subdued after the other elder’s outburst.
“The final room is quite important,” Lin Tao said, pointing at a sign that read “Career Opportunities.”
The group exchanged some light murmurs at the implication, so he gave them a moment to quiet down.
“Primarily because of the portal network, the economy on the continent is booming. There are many, many employers looked for people—farmers, sailors, soldiers, woodsmen, ranchers, merchants, smiths, weavers. I could go one with the list indefinitely. And since the IDTA portal can connect your village with any other place, it’s easy to live here and commute to work elsewhere. You can literally have a job that’s thousands of miles away and get there in minutes.”
The group had definitely turned more thoughtful, but he got some of them nodding at the thought of all the opportunities.
“Tomorrow morning,” Lin Tao said, “all the staff will arrive. The ones in this office will talk to anyone interested in employment and try to match the individual with a suitable job.”
“Gratitude, Esteemed Cultivator,” Jin Jianjun said.
“No problem, Honored Mayor, but that concludes our tour.”
“What about the second floor and the other spaces down here, Esteemed Cultivator?” Xiao Chuntao said.
“Living spaces are upstairs,” Lin Tao said. “Most of us will commute, but two guards from my sect and two from the Poison Claw Sect must remain at all times. There’s enough space up there for ten to live comfortably, though.
“As for the empty spaces, they’re situational. For example, there’s office space for a representative from the Emperor’s faction. They rarely use it, but it’s there if they need it. Other than that, it’s all empty spaces that can be quickly purposed if a specific need arises.”
“Gratitude, Esteemed Cultivator,” Xiao Chuntao said.
“Like I said, no problem. I truly am here to help. If you would like to assist me, though, you could spread the word about all I’ve told you to your villagers.”
“Of course, Esteemed Cultivator,” Jin Jianjun said.
Lin Tao shrugged internally. Despite the mayor’s assurances, it remained to be seen exactly how readily the outpost would be accepted. From experience, the first days and weeks would be slow until the villagers saw results from early adopters.
That was okay, though. As the sect leader advised, it wasn’t good to count unhatched chickens, but the outpost was progress, progress that couldn’t be stopped.
***
Zou Ai didn’t know how she possibly could be any happier. She woke up every morning still incredibly in love with her husband and knew that he loved her just as much. Their hearts were filled with joy by their three amazing children. Zou Su just turned seven—Master’s eyes had teared up when they’d named their first son after him. Their only daughter, Zou Meilin, was five and quite the precocious princess, much to her daddy’s delight and her newest, Zou Yun, was a month away from turning two.
It was almost funny to think back at how much anxiety Zou Ai and Wu Hua, who’d since had two children of her own, had about the ability to have children back during the tournament. Master’s pills were, like everything else he created, simply astonishing in their effects. All one had to do was confirm with the healers that it was the correct time of the month, take a single, inexpensive pill, and … well, you know. Nine months later, a baby would be born under the watchful eyes of a Healer with no danger to mother or child.
A population boon was well under way among cultivators. The Poison Claw Sect was, of course, an early adopter, and the success led the Emperor’s faction to trade for the pills as well. Their allies both ended up quite happy with the arrangement. For one, the pills simple worked amazingly well and were all one hundred percent pure, adding no pill toxicity. For another, the cost was extremely low for such a high grade alchemy product.
The cost made keeping up with production difficult, of course, but Master and Zou Ai agreed that it wouldn’t be right to profit too much on the pills. Neither of them would have felt good about a family who wanted a child remaining barren simply because they couldn’t afford on. Thus, they kept its price to a mere twenty percent over total costs.
Demand had outstripped supply for years, but they were finally catching up since Zou Ai had reached Golden Core almost three years prior and contributed to the production. Before that, poor Master had to do all the work himself. Last quarter, they’d actually produced a surplus, which they sold to the Premiere Jade Auction House to distribute to other continents.
Besides her personal live, her profession was quite satisfying. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to pass leadership of the pavilion over to Bai Xinyi, but she minimized the amount of time she spent doing administrative tasks. Besides, becoming a mother had matured her quite a lot. While she still was a private person who enjoyed alone time, she was much less shy than she had been, no longer having any problem speaking her mind at council meetings.
When her first had been born, she seriously thought about stepping away from alchemy to focus solely on motherhood. She’d even gone to Master about the decision, and he’d been quite supportive.
“The important thing,” he’d said, “is that you’re happy. You can step away for fifty years or a hundred or forever, and you’ll always be a member of this sect.”
She’d never shared the starry eyed devotion to Master that Zou Tian had. The sect leader had always been a scary, intimidating presence who popped into her life to give her new challenging tasks that she felt unequal to. In that moment, though, she’d realized what all the others found so extraordinary about him—he really did care about each of them just for themselves rather than for what they could provide him and the sect.
That realization had made her stop to examine just how her life had changed since he came along. In addition to the obvious things like power, improved health and longevity, safety, etc., she came to understand that he never actually asked her to do anything that she’d failed at. It wasn’t that he was asking her to perform above her ability; it was that he believed in her far more than she believed in herself.
After that point, she’d switched to truly considering him as Master.
She had taken a year off, but when she’d returned, Bai Xinyi had stepped aside, literally forcing Zou Ai to take the leadership position back. Now, honestly, she wouldn’t have it any other way. The knowledge that every pill she and her entire pavilion produced helped someone gave her a sense of fulfillment.
Besides helping individuals, her ideas spawned a massive program that transformed the entire continent. She’d gone to Master and told him that she wanted to help the common people with mortal grade healing pills. He’d easily created such, of course, but he took that simple concept and ran with it, creating a portal network to connect everyone as well as constructing factories that produced so, so many mortal grade pills. And so much more.
It was the sense of responsibility that she felt toward that program that had her leaving her house early in the morning with Yun’er on her hip and her other two trailing behind her.
The Day Care Center quickly came into view, another amazing innovation Master had come up with. Instead of going in the building, she walked around to the back to the playground, where she found him.
As soon as Yun’er set his eyes on who was there, he stretched out his little arms and yelled, “Unkie! Unkie!”
A gentle force tugged on Yun’er, and Zou Ai let go of him. Her little boy floated in the air to Master, who caught her son and gave him a big hug.
“Throw!” Yun’er demanded.
“Yes, sir,” Master said, and tossed the child ten feet in the air.
When Yun’er reached the apex, he started floating gently down. By that point, her other two were already standing at Master’s feet reaching upward and clamoring for his attention. He gracefully stooped down, grabbed Mei’er and tossed her a good thirty feet high and followed that by sending Su’er up to about fifty feet.
It looked like an incredibly strong juggler was using Zou Ai’s children as balls.
The sight didn’t bother her as she was well used to Master’s antics by that point, and it wasn’t like Master could possibly drop them. His control of Gravity was far too advanced to mess up such a trivial task as floating three children.
“What your plan for the day?” Master said, as he kept the three shooting upward and floating down as necessary.
“The outpost in the Azure Dusty Hills Village is opening today. I decided to oversee the alchemy shop personally since there aren’t many left to be established.”
Master nodded. “Good idea. I like it. Don’t intimidate Lin Tao too much, though. He’s a good kid.”
Zou Ai frowned. “Me? Intimidate someone? I have never intimidated anyone!”
Master took a step back, pretending to be frightened. “Such scary mom energy.”
She could only shake her head.
Sect Leader Kang Ya-Ting had been scandalized when he discovered that Master spent most of his day babysitting children, but spending time with the little ones had been so good for him. Everyone could tell that killing so many people after the tournament had affected him greatly, and nothing had lightened his heart until Su’er came along, followed soon after by Yang Ting.
Watching Master’s eyes glisten while holding both babies had a profound impact on all his disciples. They’d gone so far as to stagger their family planning such that Master would always have little ones to play with.
“Are you leaving all three with me today?” Master said.
“Just Su’er and Mei’er. I’ll be away for almost the entire day, and I don’t think I can bear to be away from all three of them for that long.”
Master nodded. “Just let me know when you want him.”
Yun’er was having so much fun that she let him play for a while longer than she had planned, but that was okay. No one would dare chastise her for being a few minutes late. If they tried, she’d let them hear it.
Huh. Maybe she could be intimidating…