Data-Driven Daoist

The girl gasped, and the Scribe’s eyes bulged like saucers.

“Nonsense!” Elder Scribe roared, spittle flying. “Do you presume this is your uncle’s house? Whatever you want, you shall get?”

Yu Han acted disappointed. “Oh, okay. I’ll just consult with Senior Brother Duan Xiaolong, then.” He rolled up the red-ribboned scroll again.

“Wait! We shall talk like scholars,” Elder Scribe said, as if his previous rage was a lie. “The copy of the Martial Arts and the halberd are reasonable. But why do you need a thousand spirit stones? Do you think they are like tree leaves, plucking them whenever you desire?”

Wait, fuck. I didn’t think of answers, only demands! A rookie mistake. He hadn’t made one like this since his internship days. Think! Think!

“I want to send a letter to my family,” Yu Han said. “My parents were killed by a bandit attack just before the Sect recruitments. I have some family left. If I don’t send word back to them, they’ll…”

He had a sister. She was part of a travelling merchant group. Did she already know what happened? Did she hear about Yu Han leaving with the Sect? Would she be targeted by the kingdom nobles for being associated with him?

He teared up. He wiped his face with his sleeve.

“A man shall not cry,” Elder Scribe said, his voice far softer now. “You can certainly send a letter to the White Lotus Kingdom with the Unending Drizzle Hall. Yet it shall not take a thousand spirit stones!”

“I want to hire someone to teach me the Imperial and Earthly Scripts. If I knew them, I could have selected any of those manuals,” Yu Han said, pointing at the two shelves. “I am sure they are far superior to the ones written in Common.”

“No such thing, fool. This one merely translated them here,” Elder Scribe said.

A-ha! So it was you. Nice to have verification.

“If it can’t be done, then—” Yu Han started rolling up the red-ribboned scroll more.

“Grandfather!” the girl whispered. There was a depressed tremble in her voice.

“Quit that this instant. This is not a game, obese boy!” Elder Scribe frowned. “The Cultural classes will only start from your second year. Fine, hire your tutor. I’ll provide you with another scroll of the Ox Tail 72 Sweeping Forms. A version that is more common in the marketplaces.”

There’s a marketplace for manuals? That means some are widely circulated. Which then means—yes, let’s ask for clarification. First, hear him out.

“As for the ten other Arts manuals in Common Script…” Elder Scribe’s gaze turned cold. “To be greedy is to court misfortune. Do not think because I am a mere Scribe in the Outer Sect that you can bargain with me.”

A pressure descended. It pushed down on Yu Han’s shoulders like a boulder.

Yu Han bowed. “Not Arts manuals, but books.”

“Explain.”

“Informative texts. They can be about anything. Cultivation knowledge, herbs, animals, the surrounding area. Common sense of our Sect, or the law book. I will leave it to Elder Scribe’s judgement.”

The pressure went away.

Yu Han looked up. Elder Scribe had a contemplative face. “I do not overestimate myself. I am Mind Heavenly Allocation. How dare I even hope to learn eleven Martial Arts at the same time? What I lack is knowledge. I am only a commoner, and I merely wish the Elder Scribe could enlighten me with appropriate directions. But I don’t wish to waste your time. Hence, a few paltry books…”

“Paltry?” Elder Scribe scoffed. “Were your family theatre actors?”

“We ran a simple diner.”

“Wrong choice of profession, then. I know what sort of knowledge your ilk wants.” Elder Scribe went silent.

For minutes, no one talked. And as time passed, the girl started fidgeting more and more. Her gaze went from the red-ribboned scroll in Yu Han’s hand, to her grandfather’s face, to the window, then back to the scroll again.

Yu Han debated whether he should start rolling the scroll again.

Damn, I really need to pee.

“Enlighten you. Yes, that is it,” Elder Scribe said. “How can a mere commoner, not even properly in the Body Tempering Realm, take advantage of me? This is a fair exchange.” He spoke resolutely. “It shall be done.”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Yu Han put the scroll back.

“What is your fascination with that scroll?” Elder Scribe asked.

Yu Han thought for a moment, then decided it was better to say the truth. At least partially. “It had different handwriting than the other manuals here. And its placement.”

“Forget about the placement if you know what’s good for you,” Elder Scribe said, his sharp gaze and condescending tone returning.

“Yes. It was placed on the shelves like all other scrolls.”

Elder Scribe nodded. “The Spirit Stones, the manuals, and the ten books will be delivered to your hut. Give me the token.”

“If I could kindly have it written in ink and blood?”

“You dare doubt my integrity?” Elder Scribe shouted.

“Certainly not,” Yu Han said. “But what if someone from the Law Enforcement Hall confronts me?”

“So you ask for ink and blood. Duan Xiaolong, that—” Elder Scribe paused. “We shall follow the rules.”

“And if I may clarify some other relevant laws? I merely wish to be careful not to inconvenience the Elder after our exchange. But I am unlearned and may accidentally slip.”

A vein bulged on the wiry man’s forehead. “You… think of me as some private tutor.”

“I dare not!” Yu Han lowered his head.

“Speak!”

“The books and scrolls you’ll give me. Would it matter if I shared them with others?”

“Do you secretly hope that I will give you some forbidden codex of knowledge? Share if you want. Such books are a dime a dozen in the marketplaces.”

Knowledge is money. Good.

“And what of the manuals here? Of course, I am not going to go back on our agreement and take one out, but I have read through the others. If I were to disclose their contents, would that be against the law?”

“If one could teach Martial Arts by that alone, would we need Sects and masters?” Elder Scribe said. “Doom your friends if you wish by teaching them from memory. You have been here for how long? Six hours? Go ahead if you dare. If you knew Earthly Script, that would be another matter entirely.” He picked up the red-ribboned scroll. “Most Arts here, can be found at high prices or in the libraries of the various Halls, Pavilions, and Palaces. Some are rare, but not intrinsic to the Sect, collected from outside. Some were created by past disciples, both strong and weak. However, a few… well, it would not be my place to interpret the law when the Law Enforcement Hall bears their wrath.”

Yu Han gulped.

“You may doom your comrades with the ones in Common if you ever wish to stab them in the back. What a jest, sharing Arts verbally without mastering them yourself!” Elder Scribe laughed. “Is there anything else?”

“That will be all. This one is eternally grateful for your guidance,” Yu Han said.

“Your appearance is deceiving. Obese and weak, yet a sharp mind. Alas, with your minuscule talent…” Elder Scribe shook his head. “As long as you don’t offend someone with a trick like today’s, and use that wit of yours appropriately, you may find a place for yourself in the Sect yet. You were lucky. With the recent changes to the Sect, someone mild-tempered like me is now in charge of the rookie village.”

It seemed that Elder Scribe was saying that second part to himself.

He waved his hand, and a scroll appeared. Elder Scribe waved his brush, and characters in Common Script appeared as if magic. After a while, the scroll was complete, and Elder Scribe wrote his name at the end.

Dong Chou, huh?

Dong Chou nicked his thumb with a finger. He pressed it down for the blood fingerprint.

“Now your turn, child.” He handed the brush over.

Even at a simple glance, Yu Han saw four clauses with loopholes—three he could use later, but the last one could fuck him over.

What kind of shitty vagueness is this?

The dissatisfaction must have shown on his face.

“Hurry, we don’t have all day,” Dong Chou grumbled.

In normal circumstances, he would never sign such a dubious document. But he didn’t have a choice this time.

Yu Han wrote his name. Then he unsheathed the dagger, and, biting his lip, slowly inserted the tip into his finger.

He hissed.

“What weak willpower,” Dong Chou sneered.

Yu Han sweated profusely. He stamped the bloody fingerprint.

“Give him a salve,” Dong Chou said, and his granddaughter brought a small vial to him. It wasn’t the same kind as the one Huang Niuniu had given him; the liquid didn’t shine. The girl handed over some gauze too.

Yu Han applied the salve. It had a pungent smell, and it stung. He then tied the gauze over his finger.

“We are done here,” Dong Chou announced. “Leave.”

“If I could be delivered the objects discreetly—”

“Did I stutter?”

Yu Han nodded, muttering a few words of thanks as he briskly walked out.

“How can a cultivator not even withstand such small amounts of pain? Commoners, truly no backbone,” the girl said as she led him away. “And how can a halberd and ten books possibly be delivered discreetly?”

Oh fuck. She’s right. Wait, does that mean the thousand Spirit Stones can be?

“But you made the correct judgement, late as it were,” the girl added. “Or else who knows what could have happened.” She could barely hide the excitement in her voice.

Yu Han whispered a curse in English.

“What did you say?” the girl asked.

“D-Does this compound have an outhouse?”

The girl gaped, then flushed red.

“Unscholarly peasant of no virtue! Get out!” With a giant thud, the door slammed closed behind him.

The sky was clear, no signs of rain. The yard had dried up too, and the line was no longer there.

He jogged, then ran.

“Hey, tubs, where were you?” Li Yao called out from somewhere.

Yu Han ignored him and went straight into the forest. The outhouses were there.

Fuck! This world has magic but no attached toilets. Shit-faced numbskulls!

A minute later—

“Ahh,” Yu Han moaned.

“Keep it down!” someone yelled from the next stall.

Yu Han strode away from the outhouses. It was afternoon, and daylight still remained.

It feels so good. Peeing, yes. But more than that, a successful negotiation. He didn’t have to blackmail, nor threaten. He did use the red-ribboned scroll, but that was more of a theatrical detail.

Can’t let my guard down. Who knows if Dong Chou is gonna do something drastic? Yu Han jumped off a tree root over a mud puddle and onto soft grass. It was still muddy here with the trees shading the area. Let’s not be paranoid. The Sect has laws, no matter how malleable. And Duan Xiaolong, he seems to have a strange interest in me.

With the thousand Spirit Stones, and the twenty-five from before, he would have a thousand and twenty-five. He didn’t know how big a fortune that was, or if it was just chump change.

Let’s dwell on it later—

“Halt, Yu Han,” a flat voice called out.

It was Sima Yan, flanked by Pang Jiming and Ma San.

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