Chapter 128 - This programme is sponsored by...

The radio exploded the moment Yung connected it to his Communicator. He shrieked, lunging backwards.

The hot air hit his face like pressurized steam, and the scrap from the blasted artefact followed close behind.

Yung’s eyes narrowed, blood thumping in his ears. He saw the shrapnel inching closer in the slowed down time.

The bangle on his arm lit up with golden light, and the shrapnel pelted it like bullet rain.

But the shield held.

“O-Oof!” Yung’s foot caught on the leg of a stool, and he tripped on his butt.

“Kye.” Silky said.

“That never happened before!” Yung shouted, glaring at the critter. His heart beat ten squeezes a second, the sound of a hundred drums banging by his ears in repeating echoes. “Why did it explode?”

“Kyeye.”

“And who exactly do I want to assassinate?”

“Kyu!”

“I doubt Nanya’s fiancé will use a radio to listen to news about an insignificant city. Even if he did, an explosion like that won’t scratch a Harmonious Heaven Realmer’s skin.”

Yung poked the debris of the prototype radio artefact with a long stick.

It sizzled, sparks flying. The end of the stick caught on fire and Yung threw it away, taking cover once more.

He poked his head out a minute later. The rampant qi had dissipated by that time. The formation on the floor glowed in his Link Sight. Yung would thank whoever set the formation up later.

Probably Youjin Yetu. I need to get his help later. Yung tiptoed to the wreckage on the workstation. Nyanya gnawed on the bangle. Stupid Nyanya.

He examined the remains, carefully tracing over the etched arrays and runes on the jade plate. There was a void jade acting as the ‘processor’ of the radio device. And a spirit stone as the battery.

The explosion had damaged large parts of the bulging structure.

Yung found the problem. After seven days of fiddling, he was pretty familiar with this formation.

“Silky, take notes.”

The foxmoth yaoguai chirped. It flew in three whoop-de-loops and landed on a jade slip token. Golden light of his faith qi illuminated the room.

“The third array of the automated sound transmission formation created an energy loop. Qi from the spirit stone entered the loop and kept accumulating without actuating the effect.”

“Kye kyu?”

“No, use bullet points, not numbers.”

“Kiy.”

“The threshold of energy transfer when the loop broke… Yeah, I set it too high. It sent the qi into the void jade processor all at once. But it should be incremental”

“Kye?”

“It wasn’t the qi of the spirit stone that caused the explosion. Something went wrong when the spirit stone qi, in such quantities, mixed with the neutralized qi from the void jade. Perhaps…”

Yung took a jade carving knife and used it like a screwdriver, wedging it between the fractured void jade and the melted body of the radio.

“Mother, fu—”

With a grunt and a push, the knife slid under the void jade, and it grew loose before snapping off.

Yung shook his wrist and flexed his forearm muscle.

Other cultivators at his stage could crush rocks with bare hands. He had trouble opening a peanut butter jar.

Silky landed on top of his head. A soft, fuzzy paw gave Yung the emergency head pats he needed.

Yung placed the void jade on an apparatus that looked like an equal-sided beam scale. But instead of placing counterweights on the opposite pan, Yung placed the whole scale with the void jade under water in a tank.

Light particles gathered on the opposite pan. Attached to the water tank was a modified Light Transmission Token, a simple one that only showed a grayscale bar of different values.

Yung noted the results.

“Purity above 80%. Silky did you write that down?”

Silky chirped, tail thumping the table.

It had been seven days since the enclave had appeared.

Eleven days since Nanya had left.

Almost there. Just a few more bugs.

Yung stretched, his joints popped, long hours of sitting made them stiff. He took a fresh batch of spirit stones from one cabinet, and a batch of void jades from another.

The hours passed. He used the purity measuring artefact to separate the void jades into three groups. He then used the artefact to measure the purity of the spirit stones, again making three equivalent groups.

“Silky.”

“Kye.” The critter handed the jade slip token to him.

Yung closed his eyes, qi travelling from his Heart Palace Dantian to the tip of his fingers. His mind distanced itself from the lived reality, and many streams of information flowed into his brain.

The first prototype. The tenth experiment. The third time Yung had to go to Miss Maid for healing.

He checked over all his past mistakes, and adjusted the current blueprint based on the most recent experiment. His qi moved, acting akin to a pen jotting down new information, a highlighter marking points of interest, and a pencil doodling Nyanya’s face on the margin.

Let’s do this. Yung handed the token back to the critter.

“We’re starting again.”

“Kye?”

“I slept earlier. Let’s get this over with and we can sleep for two days straight.” Maybe not, the celebration starts soon. And if all goes well, the radio show.

Silky rolled onto his back, wings tapping the table.

“It’s not a lie.”

“Kye.”

Silky held the token with his six floofy stumps.

“Log two eight seven. Experiment four four. The previous attempt failed with a boom. The purity of the void jade was far higher than the spirit stone’s. This time, we will be pairing void jades and spirit stones with less than fifty percent purity together—hey Silky.”

“Kye?”

“This is nice, right?” Yung tapped the fuzzy forehead of the land god. “Working together. Creating something.”

“Kyeye!”

“Grapes too.”

Three more explosions, five acoustic anomalies, and one blinding flash of light that oddly resembled an electromagnetic pulse later, Yung had a jade slip token full of notes, a ruptured eardrum, and a convex artefact full of wonder.

“Is that it?” Su Haochen asked. The tod flicked the ugly monstrosity placed upon the workbench while Miss Maid healed Yung’s ear.

“That’s the radio.” Yung said. “It’s gonna change the world.”

***

In the busiest moment of the daily lower town bazaar, when the restaurants should be the most bustling with raucous patrons and hustling peddlers, the people sat quietly in their chairs with food left untouched and eyes focused on a strange ‘barrel’ nailed to the wall.

The barrel spoke. “Bzzt. I am Ziyou Yung. I am madlander, and I am a mere renyao bzzt like you.”

There was a buzz in its voice, as though it was trying to mimic the flap of a bee’s wings.

Wang Gangbao slapped the barrel’s body hard once, then twice.

“… Su, I call forth a celebration! The month of new beginnings, the month of…”

The buzz disappeared.

“That’s tomorrow, aye?” A patron asked.

“Day after I reckon. When the madlander lad said all that, it was already near sun’up. Night had near passed.”

“What do you think that fat barrel is?”

“You don’t even know that?” A portly customer shook his chubby head. “Cultivators have these trinkets that can trap your voice and make the trinket speak it later.”

“Does it mean Ziyou Yung’s lost his voice now? With it trapped in the barrel and all.”

“Is the barrel dead? Why ain’t it speaking no more?”

Wang Gangbao stepped out of the restaurant floor, the small dining area that extended out into their yard facing the bazaar streets.

In the kitchen, Ding She ladled oil into a large wok. It sizzled and spluttered, a smoky aroma wafting out.

She picked up a clay cup full of dry spices and shook the peppers and anise into the sizzling oil. The smoky smell changed into a rich, tampered heat.

After that were the onions, chillis, garlic, and ginger.

“Tell me when you want to switch.” Wang Gangbao patted her shoulder and got a kiss on the cheek in return.

“I never get tired.” His wife said.

Ain’t that the truth. The last few nights have been crazy. Walking hurt him, even with ointment.

Gangbao opened a cabinet, the third layer of the newest furniture added to his and Ding Shi’s room and took out a sparkly stone.

He grabbed an armband too, snapping it in place.

When he returned to the dining space again, all eyes snapped to him.

“Stop poking it.” Gangbao said, “The baterty needs to be changed.”

“That’s a spirit stone. Now how did a poor—”

“You new here, man?” Said an old man with a bandana, dragging three others out of Gangbao’s path, “See that band? That’s the Youjin and Free Sparrow marks. Keep your mouth shut and let the lad work.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the other two marks then?”

“The foxes man, the foxes and one of them sects.”

The first man’s lips tightened, and colour drained from his rugged face.

What a farce. Gangbao couldn’t deny that the respect and fear awoke something undesirable in him. But wouldn’t it be more wonderful to command such fear with his own power?

Ding Shi was a cultivator now. How long should he keep her waiting? Until the day he died a mortal and she could move on to find a better, more suitable husband?

Father’s right. Never drink wine in the morning.

Gangbao took the metal rod leaning against the barrel. He inserted it into a hole on the side.

“Here we go.”

A wooden stave opened up. Gangbao reached his hand in and fiddled until his finger touched a warm surface.

He yanked, and the depleted spirit stone came out.

Gangbao inserted the new one into the groove. A click echoed, like snapping his finger. The corner of his lips edged up.

He closed the stave to another finger-snapping click.

Thump.

Thump.

The barrel spoke, “… four to five years to get back to the original number. But money won’t be a problem bztt…”

Thump.

“…lost plane. The respected Su and the Azure Deep Island’s envoy secured the perimeters. With their permission, fiend hunters will start delving the moment the princess gives permission. Soon, Dim Gold City will be flooded with rare treasures, hunted fiends, and valuable ores. It will support the people until there are enough Dim Gold Foxmoths to operate the silk orchards again.”

Gangbao rubbed his red palm. Yung called this ‘troubleshooting’. It worked, slapping the buzzes out of the device.

“Oi, ain’t that voice?” Someone said.

“It’s Youjin Liu.”

Gangbao had never seen the de facto king of Dim Gold City before.

Previous de facto king.

The good man had a stellar reputation. Before, it was as a powerful fiend hunter. After, as a ruler more benevolent than Youjin Fuqiang.

A young boy ran out of the restaurant after paying the bill. The coins on the counter still clattered after he disappeared into the streets.

“You stay here and write down what it says.” Said a gruff man with a scarred face. His companion, a shorter man with buzzcut hair and green eyes took out parchment and a bamboo pen.

On both their belts, fangs and bones of beasts hung.

Trophies.

These two, and the boy from before, were all fiend hunters.

The gruff man marched out the front door.

“Things’ll get busy around here. With ‘em letting random fiend hunters into the Lost Plane.” The portly patron said. He drowned a gourd of wine and stood up. His eyes twinkled.

“Where ya going?”

“You a fool? There’s business to be had!”

Gangbao had never seen a fat man run so fast.

Was he a cultivator? He put away the coins into a box and locked it.

“Well there you have it, folks.” Continued the barrel in Ziyou Yung’s voice, as though referring directly to the people in Gangbao’s restaurant. “That’s the plan, and that’s directly from Mister Youjin Liu’s mouth. Work and food, and if you want, adventure. Dim Gold City will lack nothing.”

He’s soft. That softness saved Gangbao and Ding Shi. Would Gangbao be tougher if he were in Ziyou Yung’s position?

“Next, we have a special guest. Today is the first ever broadcast of the Fortune Fox Radio, so of course, it has to be memorable. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, the Flareful Empress!”

A chorus of claps rang out.

“Clap harder.” Whispered a flat voice from the barrel.

The radio.

It was the scary fox maid.

“I’m trying.” Replied another voice. It was Su Haochen.

Can cultivators be like this? So uncaring of face? Gangbao seated a new group of patrons. Outside the door, into the front yard and in the area surrounding it, people gathered in a silent crowd. Other than the voice of the radio, no one else dared to speak up too loud, as if bound by an unwritten agreement.

“This one congratulates thee for good fortune and health.” Said a female voice. It was sharp, like the edge of a blade. It was melodious, like the song of a bird.

“So, Miss Flareful Empress—”

“Miss?”

“Isn’t your husband long departed?”

“In my kingdom, that would be lèse-majesté. But such is the tongue of a commoner. What have you to ask?”

“What do the sects plan to do next?” Asked Ziyou Yung.

A loud noise echoed, followed by a whimpered sorry. A young man hurriedly got up from the floor and placed the chair upright, sitting back down again.

Gangbao inched back into his seat, lest he fall down too.

“We open branches. Side halls if you will, in this Dim Gold City. But you already knew that, Ziyou Yung.”

“The listeners—”

“Then comes phase two of the sect recruitments.”

“What?”

“We shall have it here in the nearby forests,” Said the Flareful Empress, “by orders of her majesty, the Honoured Matriarch of the Revival Fox Clan. And you, of course, shall be joining.”

For a moment, the radio only buzzed.

“Foolish commoner who should rightly fear for his reputation says what?” The Flareful Empress laughed.

“What?!” Ziyou Yung screamed. The radio turned off.