Chapter 12

  Tests & Trials (IV)

  Long Tao had a rather peculiar look in his eyes as he stared at this new master of his. The man's actions left him somewhat... befuddled.

  There he was, a cultivator of the Spirit Manifestation Realm, and he was... sweeping. He'd even made the broom himself, from the looks of it, and instead of hailing some sect servant, he was doing it all on his own.

  Even if Spirit Manifestation Realm was practically nothing in Long Tao's eyes--barely different than a mortal--for this corner of the world, it was still a somewhat respectable height. After all, cultivators who've reached it were considered somewhat strong. And yet, there was one... just sweeping.

  Long Tao couldn't help but smile and shake his head; he'd already asked his Master to procure something that this corner of the world should not be able to--a cloaking art.

  Hiding oneself by suspending Qi actively was something that even Foundation Establishment cultivators knew how to do. It was merely the matter of holding the 'breath', as it were, and blending in with the nature. But that wasn't the true _cloaking_.

  What Long Tao asked for was to hide _from nature itself_. After all, at the Qi Condensation Realm, that was the only method that would allow him to sneak out of this place... as far as his Master knew, of course.

  If he wanted to, he could leave and come back any time he wanted. The formation in place was barely at Earth level, and even as he was now--barely third stage of the Qi Condensation Realm--he could undo it in a matter of seconds. However, that was him. Ordinary disciples at the Qi Condensation Realm would be completely helpless... unless they had an art to hide them.

  Cloaking Arts were rare even in the Divine Realms, let alone here. After all, the ability to hide from nature also implied the ability to hide from Dao--of course, such cloaking arts were so rare that even Long Tao only knew of one. And he merely knew of its _existence_, never having had it in his possession.

  Thus, he asked the impossible--and if his Master ever delivered...

  But, alas, it seemed that his Master was currently unconcerned; the man was not only sweeping but also doing some refurbishing, it seemed. He'd go behind the lodge and chop down a few trees, bring the stripped logs back, and process them further into semi-timber with Qi. The process was quite mortal-oriented, but it also worked.

  Before long, there were rows of planks, fresh and brilliant, that were waiting as he ripped out the existing floorboards within the house and immediately torched them. Long Tao subtly nodded at the action, wondering how he actually managed to endure sitting on those things for even the few days that he did.

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  Day passed and the night arrived, and his Master was still hard at work. It wasn't until it was practically impossible to see that he stopped and retired upstairs.

  Long Tao was roused from his sleep rather early the next day by the sounds of the cracking wood; opening his eyes, he saw his Master ripping out doorframes and windowpanes and tossing out furniture. It was barely dawn, and yet he was already up and working.

  Once again, the entire day was spent running around the peak and restoring the house. Though, outwardly, it hadn't changed much, inwardly... well, it still didn't change much, but it certainly looked better.

  The Master seemed done about late in the evening, wiping his forehead despite there being no sweat. It was all quite peculiar, Long Tao mused, though he hadn't ever interrupted the man. He was a bit surprised that he wasn't asked to help, though it could be that the Master wanted to do it himself, for one reason or another.

  "What do you think?" his Master asked, his smile oddly... resplendent.

  "Almost livable?"

  "Ha ha, right? Haah, I'll have to source some better materials and a few builders," he said. "Well, at least it doesn't stink as much any longer, and floors will be easier to walk on."

  "I could have helped."

  "Hm? Ah, I know. But I should have already had it prepared." His master looked to be in his forties, at least, with the signs of graying hair and beard. He was rather thin yet also, paradoxically, pudgy, the Elder's robes hanging loosely, though quite handsome still, regardless. "Your job is to simply cultivate and prepare for the competition in half a year's time. Leave everything else to me."

  "Even cooking?"

  "Cooking? Cooking, yes. Hmm, if I can do that, maybe then this, or the other one... hmm... khm, anyway, yes, even cooking. Though you may not know this, your Master is skilled in many mortal matters. A jack of all trades, if you will."

  "A jack of all trades?"

  "It's an expression. For someone who's good at a lot of things but not really a master of anything. As it goes: jack of all trades, master of none."

  "Oh. That's clever," It was indeed an appropriate saying, Long Tao mused, as it oddly applied to him, too. On the path of cultivation in his past life, unlike most other martial artists, he hadn't taken a singular route--rather, he was as his Master described, a jack-of-all-trades.

  He was versed in weapon arts, in movement arts, and in elemental arts, and he even touched the principalities of Intents across almost a dozen categories. Though vastly impressive, it was all ultimately hollow, and even if that path itself wasn't the reason for his failure, it also did not give him a chance to succeed, either.

  At the moment, he was still uncertain as to which path to specialize in, but, perhaps, if his doubts about the man next to him came to be true... he would not need to make that choice.

  "Is there anything you prefer to eat?"

  "Hm?"

  "I plan on descending the mountain tomorrow for a little while, and though I am far from rich, I can still afford a nice meal or two."

  "Anything's fine, Master. I was merely joking."

  "About what you asked."

  "Hm?" Long Tao's brows arched up in curiosity as he noted just how fidgety his Master was.

  "At the moment... it's impossible. You'll have to stay inside."

  "No worries," Long Tao smiled lightly. "My mother mentioned it was a really secretive place. Nobody else will be able to find it."

  "... didn't you say it was your father?"

  "I'm certain I said it was my mother."

  "No, no, I distinctly recall the word father."

  "I'd be worried if Master couldn't recall the 'word' father; after all, it's such a common word."

  "... I'll be in my room."

  "Good night, Master."

  "Yeah."