Data-Driven Daoist

On his lap was a little booklet. The one he had lost on the ship. Yu Han narrowed his eyes, thinking of Huang Niuniu’s previous words.

“You would have kept it?” He didn’t know if he should feel anger at the audacity of this girl, or disappointment that his fantasies didn’t come true. So he took a deep breath, deciding to feel happy that he got his heirloom back. He pocketed it.

“Bring it out.”

“It’s mine. This present doesn’t count! Give me another one.”

“I said bring it out,” Huang Niuniu repeated.

“This Yu Han will never suffer a loss. If you say you’ll give me a present, then you have to—”

“You don’t want to know what’s written there?”

Yu Han brought the booklet out. He traced the worn green cover and opened it. It had thirteen thin pages, but the last two pages were ripped out.

“What does it say?”

“Oi!”

“Mother said that men like to be kept in suspense,” she said with a wink.

“Yeah.” Yu Han had to admit, Huang Niuniu was keeping him on a wire’s edge. Who could have thought that this was the same girl who went through a horrible assault?

No, it’s fine. Don’t bring it up.

“The rain stopped.” Huang Niuniu stood and patted her baggy robes. Two round depressions were left behind where she sat. Yu Han touched them. They were warm. He moved his hand away before Huang Niuniu turned around.

“Let’s go.”

They opened the hut door. Water sprinkled from above, shaken off the roof by the movement.

Yu Han took a step back. The yard had a layer of grass, so it wasn’t that muddy. But the road outside was.

“How am I supposed to dry clothes in this humidity?” Yu Han grumbled. It rained three times a day. He closed the door behind them and double-checked the lock. It was a simple metal hook. He needed better security.

“Leave them in your room,” Huang Niuniu said. “The heat will dry them.”

“It’s going to stink.”

“Bear with it. When you collect Night Soil—”

“Geez, don’t remind me of that.” Yu Han started walking. On the muddy path, there were stones laid about. He tried to step on them rather than the mud, but some still got on his ankle. ȐαℕỗΒËŜ

“After you return from the Mission Hall, drop by my place!” Huang Niuniu shouted from his gate.

“I don’t know where you live.”

She pointed at the hut down below. Yu Han’s was on a protruding section of the mountain, and there was a few feet of drop below. The path circled around the ledge and led to another hut they’d seen before.

“Mother said men should be on top!” Huang Niuniu said.

“You’re trying something, aren’t you? I’m warning you, men are all the same.” Yu Han grinned. He liked this.

“I’m your mother now, smelly man. Don’t you dare, or your ancestors will roll in their graves.” With that, she was off.

Yu Han walked the muddy roads with a chipper mood. He felt light, as if a bucket of stress had left his body.

What is it? His heart sped up. His ears flushed. He’d never known a feeling like this. Is this what they call… banter?

It felt amazing! In his last life, either he was roasting someone disguised as banter or he was being roasted. Never had he ever had such a smooth back and forth.

The trees in the mountain had a thick canopy. Yu Han didn’t know what they were. Some had three-pointed leaves like ginkgo, others were cloud-like cypresses, but most had roundish or oval leaves. The canopy suffocated the sunlight as it passed by, creating speckled patterns of light on the ground.

The air was fresher. The colours seemed brighter. The songbirds sang in melodious tunes. Even the cicadas’ cries didn’t hurt his mood.

Maybe this world wasn’t so bad. No pollution, no fast food. Maybe a friend or two like Li Yao and Huang Niuniu?

He accidentally stepped off a stone into a puddle. Mud splattered on his trousers.

It’s fine. Let it go.

Yu Han reached the Mission Hall in good time. It was a stone building. At the wooden temple gate that served as an entrance were two statues. One held two swords, and the other made a hand mudra. Their inanimate clothes seemed to rustle in the wind.

There were couplets on the statues, and something engraved on the stone platform below. Yu Han couldn’t read it.

First plan: Get someone to teach me Imperial or Earthly Script.

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He entered the door, no obstruction to his girth, and sighed in relief. After watching the flow of the disciples inside, he figured out where the Rookie counter was. There weren’t any other Rookies there.

He spoke to the middle-aged man there. “I’m here to pick a mission.”

“Quite late, ain’t’cha? Most are taken already, boy. The good ones, at least.”

“This junior humbly asks what is possible.”

Second plan: Get a mission. Status: In progress.

“Fine. Common Script or Imperial?”

“Common, sir.”

“Here.” The man passed a few rolls of paper. “Was a lot easier before. Didn’t need two versions, but after that upstart—”

“Hey now, are you insulting the Sect Master?” a young man from the next counter yelled out.

The middle-aged man rubbed his palms, as if praying. “Dare not, dare not. I misspoke.”

Third plan: Make a detailed map of the factions in the Sect. See where I can insert myself.

Fourth plan: Make friends. Status: 1 (Huang Niuniu pending).

Fifth plan: Gather allies. Not the same as Plan 4. Make myself difficult to target, or else make it costly for that dog Sima Yan.

“There’s only seven not marked as taken,” Yu Han said.

“Well, you arrived a week late,” the middle-aged man replied.

The three Huang Niuniu mentioned were the most probable ones. The others were things like being a lab rat for testing alchemy pills and the like.

“I’ll take the Night Soil Collector mission.”

“We got a hero! The second one this cohort.” The middle-aged man clapped. He took Yu Han’s name. “Matches. Here you go.”

He handed over two tokens. And a sharp knife.

One token was wooden with a character for “Rookie” on one side in red strokes, and a beast claw ripping through a hurricane on the other. The other was similar to the “Reward” token Dong Chou had given him when he was the first to break through to Level 1 in the cohort.

“Your Sect identity token. Drop some blood here.” He pointed at the beast claw.

Yu Han gritted his teeth and pricked his finger. It didn’t hurt, but the expectation of pain was nauseating.

He smeared the drop on the beast token. It was absorbed like water soaking into a towel. The middle-aged man took the token back, did something with it behind the counter, then returned it. Now it was a bit thinner.

“Don’t lose it. If you do, you pay a huge fine to get another one. If you die somehow within this year, the Sect will know who did it and where. As long as you have this token, no one should mess with you.”

Yu Han gripped the token like it was his third life.

“With the other one, go to the Scripture Hall. You get to take one Elite Grade Art.”

“The Sect taught us the Eye of the Storm Martial Movements and Calm Before the Storm Breathing Technique. We still get more?” Yu Han asked.

“Be grateful. Lots of times, folks select arts to their profession. Other times they select defensive, movement, or other strange techniques. What you find depends on your luck. By the way, for the Night Soil Collector mission, you can report there after you’ve gotten to Initial Step Level 1 in one offensive type Art.”

“Why?” Yu Han asked.

“Not my job to tell you. Better go to the Scripture Hall now, if you don’t have any more business.” The middle-aged man shooed Yu Han away. He didn’t mind.

Second plan: Get a mission. Status: Complete.

Sixth plan: Copy as many Arts manuals as I can into the Echoing Dreamscape!

With lighter steps, Yu Han approached the Scripture Hall. Most disciples called this place the library. There were three floors. The top floor had a terrace, where a lady was sipping tea. On the guardrail of the terrace, a large vulture nibbled on a piece of meat.

Yu Han’s eyes crossed the vulture’s. It turned its neck away, hiding the piece of meat from view.

Yu Han entered the library with a grumbling stomach.

“Select one.” The librarian, another middle-aged man—but this time with much stronger bearing and a plain, nonchalant attitude—gave Yu Han a large scroll after confirming he only knew Common Script.

Yu Han unrolled it. It listed hundreds, maybe thousands, of Arts and their basic descriptions.

“Honoured Elder, do I not get to read the manuals myself to properly select one?” Yu Han asked, hoping the question wouldn’t offend. The librarian wore a modified Azure-white robe. An emblem hung from his waist, bearing the mark of the Scripture Hall in yellow-strokes.

“This token doesn’t give you access to an infinite world of knowledge,” the librarian said, then went back to reading.

Sixth plan status: Failed!

He found an empty spot in a section of the library by a tea stall. There were a few disciples chatting in hushed tones.

Yu Han took a seat. The other group of disciples gave him wary looks, but then ignored him.

Yu Han started from the side. They were overwhelmingly Martial Arts. A few Spiritual Arts had some sort of elemental trait requirement, and only three arts were under the section for Psychic Arts.

“Seventh Kingdom Outward Repulsion.”

“Cleansing Sleep Hidden Art.”

“Thousand Petal Awareness.”

The Seventh Kingdom Outward Repulsion could grant the user the ability to repel force directed their way. It had a requirement of Focus over ten.

Would have been good to shovel poop from afar.

The Cleansing Sleep Hidden Art didn’t make sleep more cleansing. It cleansed the need for sleep from the system. After some proficiency, the user could sleep an hour less with the same effect. A line in the description claimed that this art could apparently be taken to a mastery level where no sleep was necessary.

Skip! What if it makes it difficult for me to fall into Deep Sleep? I don’t need fantasy caffeine. Well, he actually did, but he preferred the real thing.

As for the Thousand Petal Awareness, it could amplify one’s senses. It had the highest grade, Elite Grade Level 9. So it was quite a powerful art. The other two were Level 8 and 5, respectively.

He read, then re-read the description.

The Art couldn’t permanently increase the senses. One had to concentrate, and there was a cost of something.

What is it? If I amplify my sense of smell while on the mission, is that considered cultivation by torture?

“…The Art symbolises an ever-expanding awareness, with each petal representing a heightened sense. Yet care more for your mind, young disciple. For if you accidentally unbloom the flower with opposite motion of breathing, it dulls the senses to the outer world, which can be fatal in battle. Such follies must be avoided if you must…”

Yu Han made his decision. If the warning was true, he could shovel poop in peace.

“A Psychic Art?” The librarian looked up for the first time and observed Yu Han. “Don’t waste this chance on a gamble.”

“This one unfortunately started with Mind Heavenly Allocation.”

There was a snicker from somewhere. A few of the disciples leaving the library proper pointed at him and laughed.

“Then it’s not a hopeless gamble.” The librarian rang a bell. After a while, a white and orange cat brought a scroll in its mouth.

The librarian took the scroll and handed it over, then fed the cat. “The scroll will burn in three days. Memorise it, or make a copy. You can teach others the scripture at their own peril. The Sect will not take responsibility.”

“The Sect is generous, letting us spread its teachings without bar.” Yu Han took the risk to prod.

“If it was an Art of actual value, you would have to make a binding vow not to speak of it. This Art is merely something developed by a failed Elder long dead,” the librarian said. “The Sect Master prefers knowledge to be spread and enriched. Before, if the Sect found out, you would be punished heavily. But the Sect Master is right. With so many hidden and open marketplaces present, there is no way to control leaks without soul-binding vows of secrecy.”

Yu Han bowed in appreciation, then left, making a stop at Sea of Gold Commerce.

When he returned to his hut, he remembered that he should drop by Huang Niuniu’s place. He walked down the path.

A scent wafted out from the Cow Girl’s abode—a stink so bad it could make the smell of animal corpses seem aromatic.

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