Two days had passed since Wei Feng's visit.
Luo Fan sat in the storage shed, the Concealment Talisman deactivated, his hidden corner now visible again. He had spent the time recovering—eating what little food he could scavenge, drinking water from the sect's common well, and letting his body rebuild the blood he had lost. Five drops in one day had been too much. His arms still felt heavy, and his vision blurred if he stood too quickly.
But he was alive. And the timer was still ticking.
He pulled up the interface.
---
Timer (until collapse): 21:11:15
RSE: 15.0
Forge Mastery: 8
Forge Points: 7
Corruption: 3%
Lifespan Remaining: ~71 years, 363 days
---
Twenty‑one hours. His body would start shutting down before tomorrow night if he didn't gain more essence. It was an emergency – the kind that demanded action, not panic. He had time to forge, but not much.
He needed to work. Soon.
He looked at his materials. Iron filings, spirit dust, spirit‑infused thread. Enough for maybe three talismans. He would need to scavenge more today.
He stood up, stretched his aching muscles, and stepped out of the shed.
---
The outer disciple quarters were quiet in the mid‑morning light. Most disciples were at training; servants moved in the shadows, carrying water and firewood. Luo Fan kept to the edges, his eyes scanning for discarded scraps.
He found a few things—a broken sword hilt, a shattered pill bottle, a torn piece of formation cloth—but nothing substantial. He was about to head toward the refuse piles near the practice yards when he noticed an old man kneeling by a heap of discarded artifacts.
The man wore the gray robes of the Artifact Hall—not the fine silk of a master forger, but the coarse wool of a low‑ranking craftsman. His hair was thin and grey, his back stooped, and his hands were stained with soot and oil. He was sorting through the scrap pile with the careful, deliberate movements of someone who had done the same work for decades.
Luo Fan recognized the type. The original Luo Fan's memories held a vague image: Elder Xu. A forger who had never risen above the lowest rank, who spent his days inspecting junk and recycling what little could be saved. A man the sect had forgotten.
Luo Fan almost turned away. He didn't need attention from another cultivator. But the old man was holding something—a broken array disk, its surface cracked and faded. And he was staring at it with an expression of mild confusion.
"Who did this?" the old man muttered.
Luo Fan's heart skipped. The array disk. He had found it three days ago, during his first scavenging run. It was a Mortal‑rank formation plate, long since drained of power, but the pattern of nodes had intrigued him. He had spent an evening tracing the formation with his awl, using his engineering knowledge to understand the flow of Qi. He had even tried to repair it—crudely, with a thin wire of copper to bypass a broken node. It hadn't worked, but the attempt had taught him something about how formations were structured.
He had left the disk in the scrap pile. He hadn't expected anyone to notice.
The old man looked up. His eyes were pale and sharp, the eyes of a man who had spent a lifetime looking for flaws. They landed on Luo Fan.
"You," he said. "Come here."
Luo Fan's legs moved before his mind could object. He walked over, keeping his head down, his shoulders hunched.
The old man held up the array disk. "This repair. It's crude. The wire is too thick, and the node alignment is off by at least three degrees. But the pattern…" He traced the formation with a sooty finger. "Whoever did this understood the flow. They bypassed the broken node instead of trying to replace it. That's not orthodox. That's clever."
Luo Fan said nothing.
The old man's eyes narrowed. "Was it you?"
Luo Fan's mind raced. Denial would be easy—but the old man had already seen too much. And something in his voice suggested he wasn't angry. He was curious.
"I found it in the scrap pile," Luo Fan said carefully. "I was trying to understand how formations work. I've been reading old texts."
"Old texts." The old man snorted. "Which old texts? The sect doesn't let servants touch their libraries."
"I picked up scraps. Discarded manuals. Broken formation plates. I learned by taking things apart."
The old man studied him for a long moment. Then he laughed—a dry, rasping sound. "A self‑taught scavenger. And here I thought I'd seen everything." He stood up, his knees cracking. He was taller than Luo Fan had expected, though still stooped. "What's your name, boy?"
"Luo Fan."
"Luo Fan." The old man rolled the name on his tongue. "I'm Elder Xu. I've been a forger in the Artifact Hall for forty years. Forty years of fixing what others break and recycling what others throw away." He held up the array disk. "This repair is ugly. But it shows potential. The question is whether that potential is real or just luck."
Luo Fan kept his face neutral. "I don't understand."
"I'll make you a deal." Elder Xu tucked the array disk into his robe. "I have a minor artifact—a Qi‑Storing Ring. The internal formation is cracked. If you can repair it within three days, I'll recommend you for a position in the Artifact Hall. A cleaner's position, nothing glamorous. But you'll have access to a real forge, real tools, and a steady supply of scrap."
Luo Fan's heart hammered. A real forge. Real tools. This was exactly what he needed.
"And if I fail?" he asked.
Elder Xu shrugged. "Then you're exactly what you look like—a trash scavenger with a lucky break. I'll forget I ever saw you."
He reached into his storage pouch—a small, worn leather bag—and produced a ring. It was simple, made of tarnished silver, with a small crystal set into the band. The crystal was clouded, and a thin crack ran through its center.
"Three days," Elder Xu said, placing the ring in Luo Fan's palm. "I'll return at midday on the third day. Don't disappoint me."
He turned and walked away, his footsteps slow but steady.
Luo Fan stood in the empty path, the ring cold against his skin.
---
Back in the shed, he examined the ring more closely.
---
[Material Analysis]
Item: Qi‑Storing Ring (Mortal‑rank, Damaged)
Function: Stores up to 10 units of Qi for later use.
Damage: Internal formation cracked at node 4. Storage capacity reduced to 0.
Repair Difficulty: Moderate. Success chance with standard methods: 34%.
Material Cost for Repair: Copper wire (0.1 oz), spirit dust (0.05 oz), 1 drop of blood.
---
Thirty‑four percent. Not good odds. But he had three days. And he had his engineering mind.
He set the ring on the flat stone and began to study the formation. The crack was at the fourth node, a critical junction that connected the storage crystal to the Qi intake channel. Standard repair would require melting the crystal and reforming it—a delicate process he didn't have the tools for.
But what if he bypassed the node entirely? Redirected the Qi flow through a secondary path?
He traced the formation with his finger, visualizing the circuit. The original design was inefficient—there was a parallel channel that could be activated with a small bridge of conductive material. Copper wire would work. But he would need to anchor it without damaging the surrounding nodes.
This is like repairing a broken circuit board, he thought. Find the break, build a bridge, test the connection.
He smiled. For the first time since waking up in this world, he felt like an engineer again.
He gathered his materials: a thin strand of copper wire from his iron filings (he had salvaged a small coil from a broken artifact two days ago), a pinch of spirit dust, and a single drop of his blood. His body was still weak from the five drops he had lost, but one more wouldn't kill him.
He began to work.
---
The repair took longer than he expected. The ring was small, and the formation was intricate. He had to use the broken awl to carve a tiny groove for the copper wire, then fill the groove with spirit dust mixed with his blood. The paste dried quickly, so he had to work in sections.
An hour passed. Then two.
His hand trembled. His vision blurred. But he did not stop.
When he finally pressed the last section of wire into place, the formation pulsed—a faint, flickering light that ran through the crystal and faded. The crack was still visible, but the ring hummed with a weak Qi current.
---
[Repair Attempt – Partial Success]
Item: Qi‑Storing Ring (Mortal‑rank, Damaged → Functional but Unstable)
Storage Capacity: 3 units of Qi (down from 10)
Stability: 45% chance of failure when used.
Forge Points Earned: +8
Refined Spiritual Essence Absorbed: +4 units
Forge Mastery increased: 8 → 10
---
RSE: 15.0 → 19.0
Timer: 21:11:15 → 21:52:35
FP: 7 → 15
He held the ring up to the light. It was ugly. The copper wire was visible on the surface, a crude patch on a delicate artifact. But it worked—mostly.
He had three days. He could try again. Make it better. Increase the stability.
But first, he needed to rest.
He tucked the ring into his sleeve, reactivated the Concealment Talisman , and lay down on the cold stone floor. The timer still ticked – now just over twenty‑one hours until collapse. An emergency, yes, but he had bought a few more minutes. He would forge again tomorrow.
He closed his eyes and slept.