Abyssal Road Trip - 658 - Strong Impression (Patreon)

Amdirlain’s PoV - Great Gorge - Kingdom of Xīfāng

Aside from dodging through the thick forest, the only route north ran along the semi-cleared gorge lip, mostly marked by wheel ruts scratched across the stones. Though Líng Xī’s pace had lagged noticeably after training until noon, she set it fast enough to cover the forty li by mid-afternoon. It brought the fields around the next settlement into sight. Clumps of boulders broke up the cleared ground, giving their fields a patchwork appearance. Gaunt adults and children in threadbare clothing worked the fields, digging holes with fire-hardened sticks to plant more seeds. The dark mud caked on them matched their black hair, though a few had tinges of colour heralding a natural affinity for qi elements.

Atop a knoll beyond those working the field, fourteen ramshackle buildings of rotting bamboo clustered around a pair of stone barn-like structures. Groups of rough-looking men led mules and yaks, offloaded bundles of skins to the right-hand barn, then let their animals loose in the yard beside it. The place’s defence relied on sharpened stakes bristling from the slope to slow attackers, and two watchtowers barely six metres tall stood on opposite sides of the settlement. Early spring rains had turned the trails between buildings into churned muddy tracks.

A few farmers looked their way as they emerged from the treeline, then returned to work with the air of people who’d prefer not to be noticed. Among them, a nearby boy with faint red streaks in his black hair held a fractured digging stick around the crack to keep using it.

Dozing in the afternoon heat, the observer in the watchtower didn’t even call out a warning. Carefully stepping between the lines of planting, Amdirlain made for the boulder closest to the boy and collapsed it into a rich loam with a light tap. “What are you planting?”

They don’t know about crop rotation; the stream is the only thing keeping the soil arable.

“Seeds,” the child whispered, not taking his gaze from the hole he was scratching.

“When you have time, spread this out along the planting. It will help the crops grow.” Amdirlain patted his shoulder and pointed to the mound of soil.

The boy looked up, blinking. “Huh?” 

She hopped the heap to the next boulder, and it also dissolved into rich topsoil.

“The rock vanished!”

“Just a little earth qi; I know a few things about farming.” Drawing one of the simple knives she’d made from her soul void, Amdirlain pushed qi through the blade, changing it into a narrow seeding trowel. She winked and passed it to him, then raised her voice so those across the fields could hear. “Use this to replace your stick. Does anyone else want a better digging tool?”

Another had appeared in her hand, and the metal shifted.

From among those closest, a man with greying, red-tinged hair stood and bowed; his resemblance to the boy indicated probable kinship. “We’ve no coin, esteemed one.” 

“I’m trading them for information only.” Amdirlain pointed to the boy, who eyed the tool she’d given him. “Please demonstrate that it’s usable for planting. That’s the only cost I’ll ask of you.”

She restrained her smile when karmic ties withered and faded at the announcement of a cost.

Why didn’t Minzhe’s ties die off when I told him how to contribute to his sister’s healing? I guess it was a more serious issue, and the price was too small.

The boy eyed the curved groove and stabbed it into the mud; without prompting, he wiggled it to make space and then dropped the seed down the front groove. 

“Easier than your stick, right?” Amdirlain prompted. At the child’s nod, she created another trowel and eyed his father. “How does a trowel for each question answered sound?”

The man shifted his weight erratically, and fresh sweat beaded on his forehead. “That is very generous, esteemed one. We wouldn’t dare take such advantage.”

“These are worthless to me and taking up space.” Amdirlain drew out and changed more knives. “Normal steel I’ve carried around for too long. However, they should be worth some honest answers.”

“What did you want to know?” the same man asked before stepping closer to the boy. “Come here, lad.”

With a little wave, Amdirlain shooed the boy over. “Shall we start with some simple questions?”

“Please don’t hurt us, esteemed one.”

“I swear that during my stay here I will attack no one who doesn’t attack me or another first. My question was: where is the nearest bridge over the gorge?”

“Four li north from here, but it’s ill-maintained.” His gaze flickered over the unplanted ground. “We need to finish this field today.”

“New tools will speed up the work. Here are the first dozen,” Amdirlain handed over the tools she’d changed. “You’ll be fine ‌answering my questions. Right?”

“Yes.” He hurriedly handed them to the adults who had drawn closer to listen, and they set to work.

“Why is the bridge run-down?”

“It once led to a city further north that’s now filled with ghosts. No one is maintaining the bridges and roads. It's passable for now; caravans use it to get to the lake towns.”

As he spoke, an itch started between her shoulder blades, but Amdirlain ignored it. After a score of questions about the local terrain, animals, and settlements, the workers had spare tools, and Amdirlain showed empty hands. “That’s all I have.”

“You’ve been most generous and kind, lady.”

“I needed to free up space,” Amdirlain said dismissively, her tone strangling off more karmic ties. “So, the biggest building on the left is the inn?”

“Please don’t rest there,” the man said. “The trappers are ill-mannered, and I fear they will offend.”

“Is there a safe spot to set up a tent?” Drakon asked.

“Of course. Let me show you.”

He started to turn only to freeze when Drakon raised a hand. “Pointing it out is enough help, as we’ve already kept you from your planting.”

The spot he indicated was near the southern watchtower.

“Can I practice on some of these boulders?” Líng Xī pointed to the largest cluster. “Or do you use them as hiding spots?”

“They are simply too tough for us to move. None of us has the strength of the trappers, and they refuse to help unless our women whore themselves.”

“Then I’ll take care of them for you,” Líng Xī said.

Flowing steps carried her to one twice her size, and Líng Xī cracked it in two with an overhead axe kick. A few more swift kicks pulverised the remains into manageable pieces. The detonations rang across the stunned onlookers, who had looked up from their work at the first explosive strike.

“Again, we appreciate your time,” Amdirlain said, once Líng Xī was done with the boulder. After exchanging bows, she turned to the others. “We could easily make the crossing to the upper lake before nightfall.”

“Lots of trappers here tonight, which means things could get out of hand,” Drakon replied. “If we stay, we could calm them down.”

“Or make things worse, because we’re a group to challenge,” Líng Xī chipped in. “It’s not like you’re a smith that they’d happily line up to arm wrestle.”

With a snort, Amdirlain waved towards a bigger group of boulders. “You could break some more of those and see if they come to cause trouble. We’ll draw them away from the buildings and fields if they’re inclined to fight.”

“They’re already drinking, so they won’t care unless I set their booze on fire,” Líng Xī replied. “I’ll catch up after I’ve refined my kicks.”

While Líng Xī pounded another boulder into gravel, Amdirlain headed towards the knoll and wove through the stakes to where the man had pointed. 

A woman in the watchtower waved at them, bow in hand. “Have you seen any caravans travelling this way?”

Her threadbare outfit had tears around the patches, while a thin leather strip held back her braided hair.

“Not recently,” Amdirlain admitted. “Pardon me if this is rude, but with all the bamboo growing here, why do you have such poor clothing?”

The woman frowned, the shift reinforcing the deep lines around her eyes. “What does bamboo have to do with clothing?”

“You can make cloth from bamboo. It would take effort, but it would be more reliable than waiting for a merchant.”

The woman’s dark gaze widened. “How? Bamboo is only good for building.”

“Just need to soak it and crush it,” Drakon chimed in. “I’ve seen towns where it’s a big trade item.”

“It is a lot of work,” Amdirlain added. “When you’re off watch, I can explain it. Are the winds along the gorge consistently this strong?”

“Yes.”

Mentally tracing the length of the gorge, thousands of souls existed amid strangled songs of misery. Those sour tones drowned out the comparatively rarer cheerful themes from the prosperous folk. Narrowing her perspective to the themes in clothing, along the thousand li of the gorge, most communities’ attire warbled the same mauled melodies as the rag-worthy clothing here.

An image of a round millstone projected to Líng Xī stopped her mid-kick.

“What are you planning, Lady Amdirlain?”

“We’re going to show them how to build a windmill to grind grain and bamboo.” Amdirlain accompanied her reply with images of bamboo being converted into cloth.

“They don’t have a lot to wear,” Líng Xī said. “The last time we passed through here, the trader who runs the inn was only selling the skins to the caravans.”

As Drakon quickly set up a tent big enough for ten people, Amdirlain held back a groan.

“I stole your chance to practice speaking with people.”

“I’ve been here before, remember,” Drakon said. “I already knew everything you asked them, but I know you wanted a reason to pay them with those tools. Once night falls, I’ll speak to the trappers about demonic beasts or areas where people have disappeared.”

“Sorry, I’m a bit of a control freak.”

“You’re not that bad. You set the basics up for the humans you relocated and left them to it.”

Amdirlain frowned. “Yeah, but I relocated them without asking.”

“Yet you gave the slaves the choice of where to go. The worse a state someone is in, the more choices you provide,” Drakon said. 

“What can I say? I’ll admit it’s a trend in my behaviour.” Amdirlain sat near the tent entrance and watched while Líng Xī demolished boulders.

The noise of shattering rock eventually drew a few trappers out of the tavern, leather cups in hand, to investigate.

One stomped forward past the innermost stakes, only to spot Amdirlain and Drakon watching. With a quick glance between the three in their identical black-and-gold silks, he drained the rest of his ale and headed back the way he’d come.

“I half expected him to start trouble regardless,” Drakon said.

“If he rouses those inside to stick their noses in, he still might.”

The conversation lapsed, and the pair silently watched Líng Xī crack boulders and reduce them to small chunks; their obliteration transformed the landscape. With them pulverised, she shifted gravel and head-sized stones from the pits and waved to them. With a chuckle, Drakon rose and waved back. In the holes, soil frothed and churned, expanding from below to fill the gaps. With that done, Líng Xī stopped to speak to the man from earlier before joining them at the tent.

“I don’t think their headman knows what to make of us. That’s sort of fun,” Líng Xī said. “Anyway, I saved four granite disks to work as grindstones once you hollow them.”

Drakon shrugged. “Stack them up, and I’ll tend to that now.”

Released from Líng Xī’s storage ring, the crude discs came up to her hip, and a gentle flow of qi from Drakon adjusted their formation into something suitable for a mill.

 “Are you going to build windmills? The stream doesn’t seem fast enough to power a mill.”

“That was my thought, so my plan was for windmills,” Amdirlain replied.

Dropping beside Amdirlain, Líng Xī crossed her legs and started cycling qi, drawing in energy from their surroundings and slowly transforming the unaligned qi into primordial flame.

It was nearly dark when the woman descended the watchtower ladder with a careless haste, not even looking down to find the next rung. A man scaled the tower as soon as she was clear.

“You spoke of cloth from bamboo before,” the woman said. “What will this knowledge cost us?”

“I’d like to test the children for cultivation potential.”

“You’ll take them with you?” Tight lines frowned around the woman’s mouth, despite the bright notes rising from her.

“Perhaps, but I doubt anyone here will match what I need, as the natural inclination for certain energies is extremely rare.”

The woman blurted. “I’ll go get the headman!”

With that, she rushed off to a house near the centre of the knoll. A short time later, the greying redhead returned, gaze lowered as he rounded the building.

“You would speak of making cloth?”

“Why haven’t you offered a name?” Amdirlain asked.

“Names are dangerous to share. The heretics of Sanxingdui brought destruction on our ancestors through their misuse of names,” the headman made a quick gesture before his face.

A sign meant to ward off evil.

“I’ll keep that in mind so I don’t offend anyone or take offence,” Amdirlain said. “Did your lookout advise you about what I said?”

“You want to test our children for talent with a type of qi,” he stammered.

“Yes, but in exchange I’ll teach your people what I know about making cloth from bamboo.”

“What does the test involve, esteemed one?”

“They’ll need to learn the basics of cultivation to perform the test,” Amdirlain said. “If you agree to it, we’ll be here for a while‌ they learn how. It should only take a few days for them to learn the meditation technique.”

“Very well, esteemed one. How do we make cloth from bamboo?”

“I’ll go into it in more detail over the duration of our stay. At a high level, you chop stalks around a particular age, soak them for a few days, and then grind them to separate the fibres. There are also ways to reduce the amount of work.” Amdirlain patted the stack of grindstones. “Today’s training even produced useful millstones from your boulders.”

“Our stream is too slow for a mill,” the headman murmured.

He cut off as Amdirlain waved towards the gorge. “Wind-powered, not water.”

“I want to practice some sword techniques,” Líng Xī added. “Could I target the bamboo in a particular area? You can sort it for cloth or building; in either case, they’d need to be soaked.”

Okay, Líng Xī also knows about the bamboo treatment.

“We just bind it in place.”

“I know it sounds weird, but soaking gets rid of elements that both attract bugs and cause it to rot faster,” Amdirlain explained.

“We don’t have anyone who knows building. Our old town changed the rules, and the costs forced folks on small farms out.”

“The town to the south?” 

“Five days' north; in the south, they don’t like newcomers,” he replied.

“You’re pretty remote here,” Drakon said. “Knowing how to treat the bamboo will help your community. If you reduce the maintenance needed for your houses, you can get more done.”

The man shifted his weight. “Would after morning chores be okay?”

“Yes. You can have someone bring along any children who can follow instructions.”

“I’ll speak to the others.” With that, he bobbed his head and retreated the way he’d come.

“This is just an excuse to teach cultivation. If someone asks what aspect we’re seeking, show them a primordial flame.” Amdirlain projected.

“That should cut out questions. You’re keeping your interference fairly mundane this time.” Líng Xī chirped. “You’re confusing him for sure. Most cultivators just give orders to non-cultivators, especially in a nowhere place.”

Amdirlain smiled slyly. “One day, people might actually consider me subtle.”

“We are standing out, so not this time,” Drakon added.

“Darn, you mean I’ll need to go do a proper hidden master to earn a subtle accolade?”

“Maybe pretend you’re mute to prevent yourself from making helpful offers,” Drakon ribbed.

“You’re setting a tough challenge,” Amdirlain grumbled. “Yet I bet I could achieve a lot without a single person knowing it was me.”

“Randomly creating things from the shadows or using disguises doesn’t count.”

“What? But then none of the temples I built count.”

“They don’t.” 

Líng Xī fidgeted. “What temples are you talking about?”

“I’m not telling since you’re both picking on me,” Amdirlain sighed dramatically, closing her eyes to focus on the cycling of her nascent soul.

“Keep watch until I return, Líng Xī. I’m going to see if I can learn the latest goings-on.” 

After she nodded, Drakon headed for the barn and, as he pushed the front door open, the place fell silent.

The noise quickly picked up again, but Amdirlain ignored the boisterous cheers and the sounds of fists impacting flesh inside.

When Drakon returned a few hours later, his hair and skin stank of cheap beer, though his robes were pristine. As he sat across from them, he wrapped a sound barrier around the three of them.

“Any recent problems?” Líng Xī wrinkled her nose without looking around. “Besides needing a bath.”

“Only minor trouble with demonic beasts on this side of the gorge, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

Amdirlain rose to stretch. “How about the other side?”

“Were you eavesdropping?” Drakon quipped.

“Nope, but mentioning this side was a giveaway,” Amdirlain replied.

“I’ll keep how you see implications in mind. One fellow mentioned unknown attackers hit a caravan trading with the lake towns during winter. He blamed the ghosts from the city.”

The same itch from earlier spread along Amdirlain’s spine, drawing a frown. 

“Problem?” Drakon asked.

“Something about that city is bugging me, but I’m trying to behave. Think I’ll keep clear of it for now.”

Drakon waved towards the northeast. “We can take a detour; it’s not far.”

“I don’t want to,” Amdirlain huffed. “I’ve spent enough time among the dead in the necropolis, and then in Hades.”

With a scroll hovering before her, Amdirlain swept her attention across neighbouring lands, seeking local-style windmills with wooden gears and cogs. Along with various diagrams of the machinery, she wrote out the mechanical process for producing cloth from bamboo.

They’ll need ponds to soak bamboo of different ages to keep them separate. That will help them solve their clothing and shelter issues, but food seems tight, too. Is it a regular situation in early spring? I wonder how much of their food reserves the trappers consume each year. Their packs mostly contain skins and beast stones, so they don’t even contribute their kills.

“I don’t like how hungry they look,” Drakon said. “Especially not the way the trappers make jokes about it. Those guys are all body cultivators, so they can eat the demonic beast meat without issue.”

“The caravans bring in the tavern’s supplies?”

Drakon nodded. “The traders own the tavern. They make money by selling to the trappers and profit from all the skins. I want to shake them up a bit.”

“I’ll just note that it's not me looking to start trouble,” Amdirlain drawled.

“Yeah, yeah. Are you in or not?”

“Fine, let’s be unsubtle together.”

At the mischief in Amdirlain’s voice, Líng Xī’s hands flew to her mouth to stifle a giggle.

“I’ll assume Líng Xī want to join the fun,” Amdirlain snorted.

“Yes. What did you have in mind?” Líng Xī asked.

“Nothing too outrageous. We’ll clear some land and teach them a few things to help get their feet under them.”

“They don’t have enough seed for new fields,” Líng Xī cautioned. “While I was working, I heard the older women trying to figure out if they could stretch their reserves to plant all the cleared space.”

Amdirlain winked and set down a bag of soybean seeds. “That might be the case for their reserves. I’m presently done with my experiments on karmic ties.”

“I think we take it further.” Drakon placed a hand against the side of the bag, and wood qi washed through the seeds, enhancing them.

“Those are going to grow fast. Fine, I’ll make some ponds, and let you two do the rest.”

“I’ll start cutting.” A push with one hand sent Líng Xī arching downhill over the outer stakes, and she raced towards the closest grove of bamboo. 

Her blade flashed, and scores of stalks toppled. As the lookout in the watchtower gasped, Drakon hauled them aloft with bands of air, clearing the space in silence. 

Though the new watcher’s attention leapt between the three of them, he didn’t sound an alarm.

With Líng Xī and Drakon working on the bamboo, Amdirlain pulled up sections of soil beyond the eastern fields, forming ponds for treating bamboo. Once she lined them with stone to prevent a swamp from forming, she diverted the stream to flow through them. With her part done, Amdirlain returned to her meditations, cycling her nascent soul and creating new shrines in distant lands. Amid that now-routine work, she planned a different construction project.

Before sunrise, Líng Xī had already felled swathes of bamboo, and Drakon removed the root systems from under the cleared areas. They set the bamboo sections in different ponds, depending on whether they suited creating cloth or building.

As the headman emerged from his home, Drakon greeted him with a smile.

“How might I help you, esteemed one?”

“Here is the rent for our campsite.” Drakon set the bags of seed at the headman’s feet. “We’ve cleared some groves and tilled the soil, but there is a lot of planting to do.”

With that, Drakon turned, and a leap took him back to Amdirlain at the tent. 

Deep in her meditative state, her nostrils flared slightly as she compressed rage and funnelled it into a technique. Her target lay beyond the bamboo groves to the east.