Chapter 7 Fated Gathering_1

Translator: 549690339

The signboard hanging in front of the shop bore the three characters “Fated Gathering”.

The interior was not large and somewhat rudimentary, with formations of different patterns hanging around. Some of the formations seemed to have been hanging for a while, their ink already somewhat faded.

The counter was rather high, and atop it sat a middle-aged, well-fed cultivator, who had a pale face and no beard, appearing to be the steward of the shop.

There was a bell hanging at the eaves. When Mo Hua entered, the bell let out a crisp ring.

Fatty Steward, who had been dozing with his eyes half-open, heard the bell and looked around. Seeing no one, he was about to grow angry when he lowered his head and saw a small head poking over the counter.

Fatty Steward blinked in surprise and, seeing that Mo Hua was alone, he asked, “Little brother, where are your parents?”

Mo Hua shook his head, “My parents aren’t looking for you, I am.”

Fatty Steward blinked again, “You’re looking for me? What for?”

“Do you need someone to help with drawing formations here?”

Fatty Steward found this amusing and teased, “Oh? And you, you little tyke, know how to draw formations?”

Mo Hua replied modestly, “I know a little.”

Fatty Steward laughed and said, “Knowing a little won’t do. At the very least, you should be at the sixth level of Qi Refinement, possess a sect’s educational jade slip, be an apprentice of formation, have a Formation Master as an instructor, and pay a deposit before you can do formation painting for us here.”

Mo Hua was taken aback; he hadn’t known about these many requirements before, and it seemed he didn’t meet a single one of them.

A lightbulb went off in Mo Hua’s head, and he said, “Alright, I lied. I’m not very good at it. I am here on behalf of my brother.”

Fatty Steward didn’t make a fuss and asked, “And what does your brother do?”

“My brother is a formation apprentice, studying under a Formation Master and normally helps the shop with some basic formation painting to earn money for ink and paper. He’s too busy studying formations to have any free time, so I’m helping him run errands.”

Mo Hua took the liberty of modifying the identity of an uncle from the extended Meng Family and borrowing it for his own use.

Fatty Steward stroked his chin, thought for a moment, but still declined, “No, talk is cheap. If your brother wishes to do formation painting for our shop, he’ll need to come himself.”

Mo Hua’s eyes swiveled and then he asked, “Do you also require a deposit?”

Fatty Steward nodded, “Indeed.”

“Is the deposit supposed to cover the Formation Method Map and the materials for drawing formations? In that case, if I give the deposit, even if I’m deceiving you, it’s just like you selling a formation and materials at the regular price. You wouldn’t make a profit, but you wouldn’t lose out either.”

In fact, they would still make a small profit. The deposit was slightly higher than the cost of materials for drawing formations. As for the Formation Method Maps, those were the simplest, most common designs, hardly costing many Spirit Stones.

Thinking this, Fatty Steward started to hesitate.

“Isn’t business a little slow in your store?” Mo Hua asked again.

Business indeed wasn’t great. There were very few customers each day, and with fewer customers, they sold fewer formations. Few Formation Masters, or even apprentices, were willing to paint formations for them, which was why the shop was so quiet.

Of course, Fatty Steward wouldn’t admit it, holding his head high, but he did seem somewhat defensive.

Seizing the opportunity, Mo Hua added, “My brother is really good at drawing formations. People say that in a few more years, he’s sure to become a Formation Master. After that, if he studies for another decade or two and passes the assessment, he might even become a first-grade Formation Master. Then naturally, he’d be able to paint more advanced formations for you, and you’d profit, wouldn’t you?”

An assessment? It wasn’t that easy to pass.

Fatty Steward scoffed internally, but as the saying goes, “Never scorn a young man in poverty”; who knows what the future holds. If he really did become a first-grade Formation Master, it would indeed be good to establish a favorable relationship for the time when they might need a favor.

As for rules, they were mostly for outsiders to see. As long as one could produce formations, nothing else really mattered.

“You make a good point,” Fatty Steward said, “but you claim your brother is good at drawing formations—without evidence, that’s not credible. You’re just a kid and don’t know the first thing about formations, so how would you know what’s good or bad? This is what we’ll do: bring me one of the formations your brother has drawn. If it’s really not bad, then I’ll agree to do business with you.”

Mo Hua didn’t have a brother, so where would he find a formation his brother had drawn?

He didn’t have his brother’s formations, but he did have some of his own.

Mo Hua’s storage bag contained several formations that he had drawn himself, but those were all homework from his sect. They were deconstructed basic formation patterns or combinations of patterns, a bit different from complete formations.

Anyone with a discerning eye could tell at a glance that giving them away would blow his cover.

After some thought, Mo Hua’s eyes lit up, and he said, “I didn’t bring any formations my brother drew, but he once taught me a little. I’ll draw one for you, and then you’ll know if my brother’s formations are good.”

“You can draw formations too?”

The steward was stunned for a moment, thought for a bit, and said, “Alright.”

He too was curious to see how well the kid in front of him could draw, so he casually pulled out a Formation Method Map from underneath the counter, along with some brushes and paper, and handed them to Mo Hua.

The map had the words “Bright Fire Formation” written on it. It was something the sect instructors hadn’t taught, a complete formation with three formation patterns, and it looked very difficult.

A complete formation, Mo Hua definitely wouldn’t be able to draw. The formation taught by the sect, although called a formation, only contained one or at most two basic patterns. These were introductory formations, not considered true formations outside.

A real formation required at least three patterns with interrelated structures, like the “Bright Fire Formation” before him.

Mo Hua glanced at the steward and declared confidently, “This is too difficult, if I could draw it, I’d be drawing formations to earn spirit stones myself. What would I need my brother for?”

The steward slapped his forehead, realizing his own mistake: a child around ten years old couldn’t possibly draw a complete formation. It was asking too much of a kid, and he’d only made this oversight because he’d never dealt with children in the store before.

Then the steward pointed to the upper-left corner of the formation and said, “If you can draw this small part of the pattern, I’ll agree to it and ask your brother to draw a formation.”

Mo Hua looked at the upper-left pattern, let out a quiet sigh of relief, it was a basic Fire-series pattern that he had learned from the sect, with some added intricate changes and connections, but still within his grasp.

Mo Hua dipped the brush in ink and began to trace the pattern on the paper, completing the drawing of the pattern in a short while.

Fatty Steward had been nodding slightly as Mo Hua drew. Mo Hua’s brush technique was quite skilled; the movements were natural and smooth, without a hint of nervousness, which clearly indicated a solid foundation. The pattern he drew also adhered to the standards without any errors. It was either a family art, or his brother had taught him well.

Fatty Steward tended toward the latter thought because, judging from Mo Hua’s clothing—which was clean but overly simple—it was clear they weren’t from a wealthy family; and cultivators with formation arts in their lineage wouldn’t be in such financial straits.

Fatty Steward took another look at the pattern Mo Hua had drawn, quite satisfied, and then said, “The deposit is ten spirit stones, and I’ll give you the required formation maps and materials.”

“Ten stones!”

Mo Hua was stunned.

He only had three spirit stones on him; he had earned twelve from copying formation homework for a fellow sect member, spent ten on a Fire-Resistant Hairpin, saved up one more by pinching pennies, and then… there was no ‘then.’ This was all of Mo Hua’s wealth.

He would have to wait until the sect’s formation assessment when he could draw formations for his peers to earn that many spirit stones.

Who knows how long that would be!

Seeing Mo Hua’s expression, the steward realized the kid didn’t have the spirit stones. He didn’t make a fuss, though; it was normal for a child not to have so many spirit stones.

Life in Tao cultivation is not easy. Even they, the stewards, often found themselves short on money, not to mention cultivators from less affluent families.

The steward simply gave a friendly reminder, “You can’t take the job without the spirit stones for the deposit.”

After saying it and seeing Mo Hua looking disheartened, he couldn’t help but add, “I’ll keep this order for your brother. Whenever you have the spirit stones, just come back and take it.”

Mo Hua immediately nodded and said, “Mhm, mhm, I’ll get the stones from my brother when I get home… and then I’ll come back for the order!”

Fatty Steward waved his hand, “Go play for now. It’s still early. I’m going to close my eyes and rest a bit…” He then slowly closed his eyes, ready to doze off.

Mo Hua left the store, squatted on the steps, and held his chin in a bit of a quandary.

“Seven spirit stones…”

Mo Hua wanted to earn spirit stones by drawing formations, but he needed spirit stones first to draw and earn them. Without them, he couldn’t draw formations to earn them…

Mo Hua felt dizzy.

Ask his parents?

Mo Hua shook his head; the household expenses all required spirit stones. He overheard his parents talking in the morning that Uncle Chu from the Monster Hunting Team had broken his arm and needed to borrow spirit stones for healing, and there was also Mo Hua’s sect tuition for the next term. It was unlikely the family had any surplus stones.

Borrow from someone?

Mo Hua’s friends were even poorer than him; they didn’t have any spirit stones to lend him.

As Mo Hua was deep in thought, suddenly he heard someone exclaim loudly:

“Mo Hua, I can’t believe you’re here!”

Mo Hua looked up to see a well-dressed, plump little boy surrounded by attendants, glaring at him furiously.