Chapter 8: An Xiaofu

"Young Master An?"

The chubby boy in ornate clothing was the eldest son of the An family in Tongxian City, named An Xiaofu. Perhaps his father didn't hold high expectations for him, hoping only for him to be "content with little" (xiao fu ji an), hence the name.

However, because of his plump appearance, his fellow disciples privately called him "Little Fatty An."

Little Fatty An was a bit dim-witted and sometimes had the temper of a spoiled young master, but he wasn't malicious. He often asked Mo Hua to draw his array formation assignments for him.

He didn't understand array formations at all and couldn't draw a single thing. Not wanting to be punished by the instructor or go home to get a beating from his father, he had no choice but to beg Mo Hua for help.

At this moment, Little Fatty An was furious. "Fine, Mo Hua! I treat you as a friend, yet you look down on me?!"

Mo Hua was bewildered. "How did I look down on you?"

Little Fatty An pulled a sheet of array diagrams with red ink annotations from his robes. "You helped me with my array homework, and there were six whole mistakes! But the one you drew for that skinny monkey Qian Xing didn't have a single error! Isn't this looking down on me? Isn't this saying I'm inferior to him?"

The "skinny monkey" in Little Fatty An's mouth was the thin young man from before, named Qian Xing, the third son of the Qian family's direct line.

The Qian family was the largest family in Tongxian City, with the An family coming in second. Both families ran merchant firms, competed in business, and held ancestral grudges. The younger generation was also at odds, vying for superiority in every aspect—even their physiques were a study in contrasts, one fat and one thin, like fire and water.

However, the two were equally lazy and incompetent when it came to cultivation, which was one thing they were "well-matched" in.

Although both were playboys, Qian Xing had a worse reputation. Beyond being incompetent, he was arrogant, domineering, and bullied others. It was said he had done many bad things in secret, but because of his family's backing, everything was swept under the rug.

In comparison, Little Fatty An mostly just ate, drank, and showed off in public, but because his father kept a tight leash on him, he never went too far.

"So that's what this is about?"

Seeing Mo Hua's nonchalant attitude, Little Fatty An's face turned bright red.

"I was actually helping you," Mo Hua said.

Little Fatty An sneered at Mo Hua. "How did you help me?"

"How does your array formation skill compare to Young Master Qian's?"

Little Fatty An said confidently, "At least I'm not worse than him!"

Mo Hua was speechless. Was that something to be proud of?

Mo Hua continued, "Exactly. With his level of skill, how could he possibly draw an array formation without a single mistake?"

"That's true. Even I can't draw it, so of course he can't!"

"So, since you know that, how could the instructor not see it? The instructor is always strict; he would definitely punish him and tell his father. Once his father loses face, he certainly wouldn't have an easy time..."

Little Fatty An pondered for a moment. "That actually makes some sense, but I haven't heard of the skinny Qian getting beaten. Are you lying to me..."

Mo Hua rolled his eyes at him. "Family shame shouldn't be spread abroad. A father beating his son is surely done behind closed doors; how would you know?"

Little Fatty An nodded, still feeling a lingering fear. "You're right. When my father beats me, he never lets anyone else know!"

Mo Hua added, "And this time, didn't Master An not only refrain from beating you but also praise you?"

Little Fatty An immediately became smug. "That's right! The instructor gave me a 'B' grade. When my father found out, he praised me for making progress and even gave me a lot of good things!"

Little Fatty An's temper came and went quickly. He was no longer angry and even felt a bit guilty, saying to Mo Hua

"I wronged you! I'll treat you to a meal at the Spirit Dining Hall. It's run by my family; eat whatever you want!"

Mo Hua hadn't expected Little Fatty An to be so unexpectedly generous, but he declined, saying, "No need, I have things to do."

Little Fatty An said with dissatisfaction, "My father often teaches me that kindness must be repaid. If you don't go, you're looking down on me!"

Thinking of his own buttocks, which were still red and swollen from his father's beating, Little Fatty An insisted even more firmly, "This is no small favor; you must go!"

When Little Fatty An's childish temper flared, he could be quite difficult.

Mo Hua felt a headache coming on. He looked at the door of the Array Pavilion and suddenly said, "Young Master An, let's skip the Spirit Dining Hall, but there is a favor you could do for me."

Little Fatty An patted his chest. "Name it!"

"Lend me ten spirit stones."

Little Fatty An frowned. He didn't actually have ten spirit stones. To prevent him from squandering money, Master An never let him carry more than five at a time.

Treating Mo Hua to the Spirit Dining Hall could be put on his father's tab; it was just food and drink, and since it went through the accounts, his father wouldn't say anything. What his father feared was him spending spirit stones on crooked paths without any record to check. If he wasn't careful, it could lead to big trouble.

Little Fatty An took out the five spirit stones he had on him, then looked at his servant and said, "Give me all your spirit stones. I'll pay you back when we get home."

The servant was a bit reluctant but handed them over, just enough to make ten.

Little Fatty An handed the spirit stones to Mo Hua. "Here you go, no need to pay me back!"

Mo Hua shook his head. "I'll pay you back in a few days."

Mo Hua weighed the spirit stones in his hand, tucked them away carefully, and after saying goodbye to Little Fatty An, returned to the Array Pavilion. There were still no customers, and the manager was still dozing off.

After entering, Mo Hua stood on his tiptoes and placed the ten spirit stones on the counter.

"I've brought the spirit stones!"

The manager hadn't been asleep long before he heard the bell again and saw Mo Hua and the ten spirit stones on the table.

The manager picked up the stones, inspected them carefully, and finding no issues with their quality, nodded. He reached under the counter and pulled out a storage bag.

"Inside is a diagram for the 'Bright Fire Array,' along with ten sheets of array paper and spirit ink—enough to draw ten arrays. This order has a ten-day deadline; if you exceed it, the entire deposit will be forfeited. For every successfully drawn Bright Fire Array, you get one spirit stone. If you mess up or fail to meet the standard, one spirit stone will be deducted from the deposit. These are the standard rules for the merchant firm; your brother should be aware of them."

Mo Hua nodded.

If all these arrays were drawn successfully, he could earn ten spirit stones. If he failed all of them, he would lose ten. Anything over a fifty percent success rate would be a profit.

The manager added a final warning, "Ten days, don't forget. If you're late, I'm keeping the whole deposit."

Mo Hua nodded quickly, bowed to thank the manager, and left.

Once home, Mo Hua locked himself in his room and began to study the array formation with a focused mind.

A potential profit of ten spirit stones was quite substantial. Although he had earned twelve spirit stones helping his fellow disciples with their homework, he couldn't do that many times a year.

Besides, writing assignments for others wasn't exactly proper work.

Doing it occasionally was fine, but in the long run, it would hinder his peers' progress.

The merchant firm was different. If he did well, it could be a long-term source of spirit stones, and he could practice his array skills—it was killing two birds with one stone.

Mo Hua spread the "Bright Fire Array" diagram out in front of him.

The diagram had been drawn by another array master beforehand and served as a template.

Attached to the back of the diagram was an explanation, recording the array patterns, the type of brush and ink to use, and other points of note. It was the standard format used in the cultivation world to record array formations.

The explanation for the "Bright Fire Array" contained relevant notes: where to use fire-element patterns, how to connect them, the mixing of the ink, and the proportions to use. Many of the concepts were unfamiliar to Mo Hua, and he found them difficult to grasp.

This was the first time Mo Hua had seen a formal array explanation. What he had learned in the sect were the simplest arrays—though they were called arrays, most only contained one or two basic patterns, intended for disciples' enlightenment and introductory learning. They were different from the arrays truly used in the cultivation world.

At the end of the "Bright Fire Array" explanation was a line of notes

*Bright Fire Array, fire-element array, contains three patterns, requires at least the third level of Qi Refining.*

But what caught Mo Hua's attention most was a line of small, handwritten red ink notes following the warning

*Those who have not reached the required level lack sufficient divine sense; study with caution!*

Mo Hua, who was only at the second level of Qi Refining, couldn't help but frown.

A cultivator needed divine sense for everything: guiding spiritual energy, driving spiritual power, casting spells, controlling spiritual artifacts, alchemy, and artifact refining.

It was common knowledge among cultivators that drawing array formations consumed the most divine sense. But the fact that it was specifically marked with "insufficient divine sense, study with caution" and restricted by cultivation level, all written in red ink, made Mo Hua realize that he might not have understood just how much "most" really meant...

"Could it be that drawing array formations really requires that much divine sense?"

Mo Hua rested his small chin in his hand, deep in thought.

"Forget it. I'll familiarize myself with the patterns first and practice on the stele tonight."

Mo Hua memorized the diagram, ate dinner with his parents, and after returning to his room, practiced a few times with ordinary paper and ink to get a feel for the patterns. When the hour of the Rat arrived, he lay down on his bed, and as he closed his eyes, the ancient, ethereal broken stele floated into his sea of consciousness.