Job Hunting

“Knock, knock, knock.”

Lu Yan's knuckles tapped thrice against the heavy wooden door, producing a dull thud. Is no one home? He knocked again.

“Knock, knock, knock.”

Still no response. He stood before the gate and waited for a moment. The address should be correct. He retrieved a slip of paper from his sleeve, unfolded it, and glanced at it again. After staring at it for a couple of seconds, he refolded it and tucked it back. If no one is here, I might as well forget it.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, he remained standing in place. He knew that if he walked away now, he might never get another chance. This was a rare opportunity, and he doubted he would have the luck to stumble upon another job that so perfectly matched his professional background and literally dropped into his lap.

With that in mind, he knocked for the third time.

This time, he used the back of his fingers, knocking slightly harder. The sound finally penetrated the door. He heard a dragging set of footsteps inside. With a creak, the door opened a crack, revealing a sleepy face. It was a middle-aged man with messy hair and a crooked collar, looking as though he had just been awoken.

“Ah...” He yawned, rubbing his face with his palm. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had visitors. I thought I was hearing things. Who might you be looking for, sir?”

Lu Yan paused for a moment, then retrieved a token from his storage bag and handed it over. “I am looking for Fu Changfeng. This is his token.”

The middle-aged man took the token, turning it over to examine it. He ran his thumb along the patterns on its edge, as if verifying its authenticity. Then he looked up, sizing Lu Yan up. His gaze lingered on Lu Yan's face for a moment before dropping back to the token.

“My master’s surname is indeed Fu, but we do not have anyone named Changfeng here. Still, this token is genuine.” He handed the token back to Lu Yan. “My master and the young master are both out. Please come in and wait in the front parlor, young master. They should return sometime this afternoon.”

Lu Yan took the token back and put it in his storage bag. “Alright. Thank you for your trouble.”

The middle-aged man stepped aside, making a gesturing invite. Lu Yan crossed the threshold and followed him inside. The door creaked shut behind them with a heavy thud.

The Fu residence's decor was not overly grand or ostentatious, yet it exuded an air of elegant spaciousness. Lu Yan followed the middle-aged man down a short corridor. The ground beneath his feet was smooth and wide, and stepping on it felt less like stone and more like something subtly warm and smooth.

He glanced down—it was definitely not ordinary stone. Normal stone wouldn't have this color. Looking closer, he noticed a faint, greenish-gray luster shimmering on the surface of the bricks.

No, this wasn't stone at all. This floor was paved entirely with spiritual materials... He recognized the substance. It was low-grade basalt crystal, a spiritual material that barely qualified as ranked. While not excessively expensive, using it to pave the floor was utterly absurd. If it were just one or two pieces, it could be written off as an intentional accent, but the entire front parlor floor was made of it. He did a quick mental calculation of its worth. The result was outrageously high.

“Please have a seat, young master. I shall brew some tea.”

The middle-aged man's voice snapped him out of his calculations. Lu Yan sat down on a chair. The seat was firm yet yielding, covered with a thin cushion made of an unknown material. It was neither too hot nor too cold, fitting his posture perfectly. Before he could fully appreciate the feel of the chair, a plate of tea pastries was served. The white porcelain plate was so thin that its edges were translucent. Arranged neatly upon it were several square, translucent white pastries that wobbled slightly like jelly.

Lu Yan picked one up and weighed it slightly in his hand. It felt cool. He raised an eyebrow, thinking it had probably been chilled beforehand. He popped it into his mouth, chewed a couple of times, and swallowed.

Yes, it was exactly as he expected—basically milk jelly. But it tasted quite good, with a subtle sweetness that wasn't cloying, and an indefinable herbal fragrance, as if the juice of some spiritual plant had been added to it.

He picked up another piece. It was still ice-cold. He picked up a third. Still cold. He noticed something off—how was this piece even colder than the first one? If they had simply been chilled beforehand, shouldn't they have gradually warmed up after sitting on the plate for so long?

He lifted the plate and turned it over. The sheer coldness of the plate's bottom made his fingertips twitch. He squinted for a closer look, and his lips began to twitch uncontrollably.

Embedded in the bottom of the plate was a thin layer of pale blue crystal. It looked like ice but was far more translucent, its edges polished smooth and fitted perfectly into the white porcelain base. He recognized it. It was Cold Water Jade.

A Tier Three spiritual material, occasionally added to the weapons of late-stage Foundation Establishment or Golden Core cultivators to enhance both frost and water attributes.

He had plenty of water- and ice-attribute formations that could use this material. Yet here, it was embedded in the bottom of a plate, serving as a mere chiller.

It was even wrapped in a layer of white porcelain, as if to hide it from view. Talk about trying to cover up the obvious. Lu Yan stared at the thin porcelain and the faint blue glow emanating from within. Low-key, luxurious, and sophisticated. Ah.

It's like stumbling into the imperial palace... cough. He then picked up a third piece of milk jelly and stuffed it into his mouth.

Meanwhile, outside the main gate, Fu Xingjian was walking over from the mouth of the alley. He walked briskly, the hem of his robes fluttering loudly in the wind, his face still flushed from a recent argument with his son. When he pushed the door open, his movements were heavier than usual.

“Old Jin!” he called out. Before his voice could fade from the courtyard, Old Jin came forward to greet him. “Master, a guest has arrived. He holds the young master's token and says he is looking for Fu Changfeng. He has been waiting in the front parlor for a while.”

Fu Xingjian's footsteps paused. He remembered the temper he had just thrown at that brat in the forging cave. If the boy had actually managed to invite someone over, then his scolding hadn't been in vain.

He had arrived. Fu Xingjian quickly composed himself. He rubbed his temples, suppressing the lingering irritation. When he opened his eyes again, his expression had completely transformed—his eyes were slightly bloodshot, as if he had just undergone some emotional turmoil, and his lips curved into a gentle, apologetic smile.

He adjusted his robes and pushed open the door to the front parlor. “Nephew—”

The rest of his greeting died in his throat.

Lu Yan was in the middle of stuffing another piece of milk jelly into his mouth. His cheeks were puffed out, and a tiny white crumb clung to the corner of his mouth. Before he could fully swallow, he heard the door open, and his hand froze in mid-air. The two men stared at each other.

Silence is the bridge of sighs tonight...

Lu Yan hastily chewed and swallowed the milk jelly. He then gently set down the pastry, wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, stood up, and cupped his hands in greeting.

“Sorry to trouble you, Uncle.”

Fu Xingjian had not yet fully processed the scene. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “My nephew must have suffered greatly out there... Quick, bring my nephew a few more plates of pastries.”

The corner of Lu Yan's mouth twitched, but he didn't laugh. He recognized this man. It was the Sect Master of the Artifact Sect. Back when he followed Lu Buqi, he had seen him once or twice at the Formation Sect's banquets. The man before him had aged; many fine lines creased the corners of his eyes, and his temples were far whiter than in his memory, but his features remained recognizable.

“Uncle, if there is something you need, please speak plainly.”

Fu Xingjian was in no hurry to get to the point. Instead, he asked about how Lu Yan had lived over the years, where he stayed, and whether he had adjusted well. Lu Yan answered each question calmly and steadily. He could tell Fu Xingjian was setting the stage. Lowering his eyes, he waited. He knew this polite small talk would soon end, and the true purpose would quickly surface.

“Nephew, as you know, ever since Brother Buqi martyred himself along with the Formation Sect, the entire Northern Border—no, the entire Heavenly Dao Realm's attainment in formations has regressed by nearly a thousand years...”

Lu Yan's hand holding the teacup paused slightly before continuing to his lips. He took a sip of tea and remained silent. He knew Fu Xingjian was about to discuss serious matters and was merely setting the stage. Truthfully, he felt very little about what Fu Xingjian was saying. After all, despite being one of the four sister arts of cultivation, when the Ten Thousand Formations Sect was on the brink of extinction, the highest-ranking reinforcement they had sent was only at the Golden Core stage...

Fu Xingjian continued talking, moving from the glory of the Formation Sect to the long-standing friendship between the Artifact Sect and the Formation Sect, and how the two sects had learned from each other's crafts and jointly maintained the Great Wall... Lu Yan listened for a while, casting his eyes down as his teacup tilted slightly, the tea swirling against the rim.

He really couldn't listen to any more of this. “Uncle.” He set down his teacup, the porcelain base clinking softly against the table. “If you have something to say, or if there is anything I can help with, please just say it. No matter how glorious or powerful the Formation Sect once was, it has already been destroyed.”

He looked up, meeting Fu Xingjian's eyes with a faint smile, the curve of his lips very slight.

Fu Xingjian fell silent. He stared into Lu Yan's eyes. The sob stories he had prepared had been thoroughly shut down.

He lowered his head and took a sip of tea. It had already gone cold and bitter. He set the cup down with a dull thud. It seemed the old saying was right—there was no such thing as a free lunch. For an insignificant junior at the Foundation Establishment stage like him, just being able to speak with a Sect Master was already a privilege. Did he really expect them to search high and low for him?

He shouldn't be daydreaming about direct hiring by the boss. Perhaps that meeting had just been a coincidence, and in their eyes, he was nothing more than a destitute wretch trying to climb social ladders. After all, upon their very first meeting, he had devoured two plates of their pastries like a starving ghost.

“There is no need for Uncle to trouble yourself further. This nephew shall take his leave.”

Lu Yan stood up, cupped his hands, and turned toward the door. He didn't walk very fast, and indeed, Fu Xingjian's voice sounded from behind him, carrying a suppressed urgency—

“Is the Ten Thousand Formations Compass still in your hands?”