Chapter 170

Chapter 170: The Origin of the Secret Realm’s Formations

Rong Shu blinked in surprise and murmured: “Huh?”

She looked over the alchemy shelves and frowned: “Why are a few formation books mixed in among these alchemy texts?”

Rong Shu casually opened one. It was only an introductory primer on formations. Even a novice like her who had never studied formations through any system could puzzle out a little of it with some effort.

She tapped the book’s spine, thinking aloud: “An array text in the cave abode of a Grandmaster Alchemist? Could the master of this secret realm be dual-cultivated in alchemy and formations?”

Remembering how everything since she entered the secret realm had been governed by one formation after another, Rong Shu felt her guess made some sense.

But very soon she sensed something off. She narrowed her eyes and muttered: “That’s not right… why do the handwritten annotations inside look different from the handwriting in the note jade slip?”

Rong Shu hurriedly fetched the note jade slip she had read several times, then compared its script line by line with the handwritten notes in the formation book.

Her conclusion was firm: the handwriting was completely different.

She pressed a finger to the page and speculated: “Could the master of the secret realm write with both hands, switching to a different script? But these are private materials. There’s no need to treat them like covert documents.” She paused, then added in a lower voice: “Or… were they written by different people?”

She looked around the cave and weighed another possibility: “Then this cave abode isn’t the master’s residence at all, but a formation master’s? That doesn’t track either, not with this many pill recipes and alchemy texts…”

Rong Shu was baffled.

Curiosity prodding her on, she put away the note jade slip and returned to the formation books, hoping to find a clue hidden between the lines.

The books themselves were ordinary. The only unusual thing was that their owner had been extraordinarily diligent and treasured them dearly.

The annotations were meticulous and comprehensive. For a formations novice like Rong Shu, whenever the original text was hard to follow, glancing at the margin notes quickly made things clear.

The books showed wear only on the oft-turned pages. Elsewhere, if not for the yellowing left by long years, they looked almost new.

Finding no answer for the moment, Rong Shu let the question rest.

Over the next few days she cultivated as usual in the cave abode, practiced her blade, refined pills, and occasionally leafed through the formation books.

What she did not expect was that the answer to her curiosity would appear in an alchemy notebook she had not yet read.

Tucked inside were letters. One began: “My brother, after much thought these days, I find your words not without reason, so let it all be as you decide…” Another advised: “Elder brother, when you go out to temper yourself, safety first; do not risk your life just to pick a few spirit herbs…” There were several more in a similar vein. From these, the figure who had laid out the formations of the entire secret realm finally surfaced.

Beyond the letters, the notebook’s middle section was not the alchemist’s insights about pill refinement so much as a diary. It read: “Today I saw a boy who looks exactly like me. He is my younger twin brother.” It continued: “I went to see him again. Although Father keeps telling me not to approach him, saying he is unfortunate, that he brought calamity upon Mother, I don’t understand. We are twins. Why would only my younger brother be the one who doomed Mother, and not me?”

Another entry ran: “He called me elder brother. So he knew of me too.” Then: “They tested me and found I have a powerful constitution. Father compromised and let me visit my brother, but my brother is not allowed to go out or meet outsiders.” Another: “My brother is always shut indoors. I worry he will be bored, so I want to buy books for him to read. It’s all I can do.”

A later note said: “My brother loves the books I gave him. He reread a formation manual several times and even pulled me in to talk about formations I couldn’t understand.” Then: “He likes formations, but he cannot go outside. I can buy books and formation materials for him so he can learn.”

One sober line recorded: “Father has died, away from home. I don’t know the reason. The sect elders won’t tell me either; they only tell me to cultivate well and refine pills well.” Another followed: “I must travel far. The sect elders say a long-standing rival force wants to challenge our sect’s standing, and they are sending me to exchange pointers on behalf of the younger generation.”

After four months came relief: “I have not seen my brother in four months. The contest is finally over. I won.” Then alarm: “The sect has discovered my brother’s existence, and all want to drive him out. I refused and pleaded with the sect elders, and they compromised.”

One tight entry glowed with pride: “My brother is incredible. His formation saved my life.” Another brimmed with resolve: “He is a genius, even more gifted than I am. He shouldn’t be trapped indoors forever. I will take him away and lead him out of that room.” Finally came the shock: “The one who murdered Father… how could it be the Grand Elder! How could it be him…”

After that line, there was a long blank stretch with no further records.

On the last page, the character for “him” was scored so hard it carved a deep furrow through the paper, darker than the blot of ink itself.

Then came the stark confession: “I destroyed the sect. Father may blame me, but I still struck. Not only Father, but also Mother’s death in childbirth and the label of ‘calamity star’ pinned on my brother were all their doing.” The next line read: “They deserved to die.” And then: “At last I took my brother away. We will go where no one knows us. He can finally walk out of that room…”

The later entries consisted mostly of the two brothers’ daily trifles alongside some insights on pill refinement.

Rong Shu finished reading and sat for a long time before she could collect herself.

She exhaled and whispered, moved by the picture now drawn: “Twins. One living under the sun, adored by elders and peers alike for outstanding alchemy talent; the other hidden away in a room day after day, with no one to confide in and no one who even knows he exists…”

She had considered that the handwriting might belong to a different person, but she had not expected a story so tangled: a pair of twins, fates utterly divergent, and both geniuses in different fields.

She looked up at the web of formations in the secret realm and reasoned in a low voice: [So the various formations here were set down by the Grandmaster Alchemist’s own younger brother?] She glanced around the cave abode and added in thought: [And when the Grandmaster Alchemist had the standing to become a local power, he left outright, established a new cave abode, and this became the new home for the two brothers?]

Rong Shu’s feelings were complicated after uncovering this secret. The story of the two brothers of the secret realm was knotted and poignant, yet now the seas had turned to mulberry fields, people had changed, and all stories and secrets lay buried.

No one knew, and perhaps no one ever would.

She shook herself from reverie, rummaged through the shelves, and sorted the alchemy texts and formation texts into separate stacks. She tapped the first pile and planned her study sequence: “Read this first, then that…”

Her gaze returned to the formation books. After a moment’s thought, she decided that once she finished the alchemy volumes, she would also study the formations. Learning more never hurt.

She clapped once and brightened: “Next, ignite the furnace and refine pills!”

Rong Shu took out a newly acquired pill recipe, prepared the spirit herbs, and dove into pill refinement with high spirits.

One year later.

She stood before the rock wall where her height marks climbed in uneven steps and muttered, chalk in hand: “One meter… one point five seven… or was it eight?”

Rong Shu stared at the notch between seven and eight, then, as if nothing had happened, rubbed it away and drew the line up to eight. She announced with satisfaction: “Oh yeah! I’m 1.58 meters now!”

Pleased by the new mark, Rong Shu made up her mind: in a moment this memorable, she would study formations.

Over the year, she refined every third-grade pill recipe she had obtained in the Scripture Tower for which she had the herbs. All told, she produced close to fifty kinds of third-grade pills.

She had wanted to attempt fourth-grade pills, but there were too few fourth-grade formulas left in the cave, and she lacked sufficient spirit herbs.

Whenever there was nothing left to refine, Rong Shu taught herself formations, practiced her blade, and sat in meditative cultivation.

She finished the basic theoretical portions of the formation books left in the cave abode. The deeper volumes were still taxing, even with the annotations.

Even so, through these books she unraveled the control methods for many arrays within the secret realm.

In principle, even a low-grade formation is nearly impossible for an outsider to dispel without brute force. To allow outsiders to use them, the formation path developed the Formation Disc.

With a formation pre-engraved into a Formation Disc and the formation master lifting the restrictions, an outsider can operate most arrays with ease.

At present, Rong Shu had essentially grasped the on-off “switches” of the secret realm’s formations. Though she did not truly understand formations, she could still operate a portion of the arrays.

She clicked her tongue at the limits and thought with a hint of regret: [What a pity… if I could operate the core formation of the secret realm, I might be able to make this secret realm appear whenever I wanted.]

She tried once more to assemble a very basic Spirit Gathering Formation, so basic it could only draw in spiritual energy within a one-meter radius, practically a chicken rib.

Even so, this unimpressive array took her three months of tinkering to cobble together three units with the meager materials she had. The first two either failed at activation or sputtered out shortly thereafter.

Short on materials, Rong Shu had to salvage and rebuild her failures over and over.

She crouched by the third one and said briskly: “Almost there, right? One more check.”

After inspecting three times in a row, she placed a Spirit Stone into the Formation Eye of the Spirit Gathering Formation and activated the array.

Once it was running, Rong Shu felt a faint stirring: within one meter, the flow of spirit qi quickened ever so slightly.

That was the principle of a Spirit Gathering Formation, to lure qi and make it converge faster, saving the time normally spent drawing it in step by step during cultivation.

She leaned forward with shining eyes and asked under her breath: “Did it work?”

Rong Shu watched the Spirit Gathering Formation turning steadily for a full quarter of an hour before shutting it down. She took the Spirit Stone out of the Formation Eye and sensed that more than half of its qi remained.

She clicked her tongue and jotted a line while she muttered: “The formation is too crude. It cannot even drain a Spirit Stone clean.” A year of reading annotated formation texts had rubbed off on her; she had developed the habit of recording her ideas in a small notebook.

She tucked the notebook away in the safest place she had, the Han Chuan Cosmos Pearl.

She stretched and spoke to the empty room: “That should do it… It’s been a year. Time to head out.”

Rong Shu turned from the alchemy room and returned to the study.

Two beds stood there now, one hers and one Little Hamster’s.

As for why Little Hamster had his own bed… about half a year ago, in the middle of the night, the little fellow had been sleeping sweetly in his nest when he suddenly transformed into a human on the spot, crushing the nest flat.

Since then, Little Hamster had retreated in a sulk to sleep on a bed.

“Yan Yan?” Rong Shu tiptoed closer, studying the small boy sleeping soundly on the mattress with keen interest.

Over the past year, Rong Shu had noticed that Yan Yan would often hide in some corner of the cave abode from time to time. Only after a while would he return to her side.

Since they were in the same cave abode, she gradually realized that every time he changed back into human form, he would sneak off to avoid her, as if he did not want her to see.

Yan Yan thought he was being discreet, but what he did not know was that several times while he slept, he unconsciously transformed back into human.

He had gone from a little softie of a five-year-old who could hug only her thigh when he stood, to the ten-year-old of today, his head reaching her chest.

Rong Shu had been startled at first, and then quietly pretended to know nothing, letting Yan Yan keep his secret.

Sometimes his pretense was so clumsy she did not know how to go on pretending ignorance. Like now: in broad daylight, drowsy, he had toppled onto the bed and unconsciously turned back into a boy again.

She eyed his half-hidden, rosy-cheeked face and wondered with amusement: [He’s pretty cute. Why won’t he let me take a look?] Little Hamster form was adorable, yes, but a bit too small. It was nicer to pet when he was bigger.

“Yan Yan?” Rong Shu lowered her voice to call once.

No response.

“Since you’re not saying anything, I’ll take that as a yes.”

She could not resist any longer and reached out to gently stroke Yan Yan’s head.

Just as she imagined, he was soft and plush, delightful to pet. Rong Shu poked the pink-white cheek twice and gave it a light pinch for good measure.

As she played to her heart’s content, the sleeping Yan Yan felt something repeatedly tapping his face. His consciousness floated up; he opened his eyes and, hazy with sleep, saw Rong Shu standing at the bedside.

Yan Yan went blank.

Rong Shu blinked and, feigning calm, greeted him: “Awake? Want some fruit?”

Yan Yan dropped his gaze to his current body, then immediately ducked beneath the quilt, not even showing Rong Shu his face.

“Hey?” Since she had been found out, Rong Shu stopped pretending. She poked the little mound of covers and coaxed: “Yan Yan, let me have a look, will you? It’s not like I haven’t seen you before, right?”

After a long struggle, Yan Yan cautiously popped his head out.

“Guu… Shu Shu,” he said, still curled in the blanket with only his head peeking, his eyes anxious as he looked at Rong Shu.

“Mm, good boy,” Rong Shu said, satisfied as she ruffled his hair.

Seeing that she did not dislike his current appearance, Yan Yan slowly relaxed.

After petting him for a while more, Rong Shu drew back her hand and spoke her plan: “We’ve stayed a year. In two days, we’ll get ready to leave.”

“Mm-hmm.” Yan Yan nodded, then stammered out his question: “After that, go… out, the secret realm?”

“Depends on the situation,” Rong Shu said. “It’s been a whole year. There can’t still be people keeping watch on us outside.”

“If there aren’t, we’ll remain in the secret realm a bit longer to pick some spirit herbs before we go out.”

“If there are, we’ll leave the secret realm directly.”

After a year, that young man’s tracking methods should have run their course.