Chapter 169: Printing talisman

Chapter 169: Printing talisman

Chen Ren stood in Hong Yi’s workshop. Before him sat the two craftsmen of his sect Feiyu and Hong Yi.

They had spoken for more than an hour already, drifting from mundane repairs of certain items to things that mattered more, but now—now he was getting to the most important product; the true matter of this meeting, the seed that might alter the very foundation of talisman craft in their sect.

Yet even here, within his own walls, Chen Ren found himself facing skepticism once he explained his idea.

Hong Yi’s brows furrowed. “Sect Leader Chen, I understand where you are coming from. But talismans are too delicate to mass-produce. Pills can be refined by cauldron batches, and stabilize their process. Talismans, however…” he shook his head. “Even with my experience in tier one talismans, I can only create three dozen in a single day, and by the end of it, I am drained to my marrow. Out of them, perhaps two or three might be flawless. The rest…” he exhaled sharply through his nose. “Mediocre at best. Some even failures.”

Feiyu, arms folded across his broad chest, gave a rueful chuckle. “And I don’t even have that much knowledge. My path lies in metalwork and qi infusion, nothing to do with talisman seals. How would I even help you? Sect Leader, if I were to try, I’d only waste resources. If you truly seek advice, Elder Qing He would serve you better.”

Chen Ren looked at them.

“I understand your inhibition. Yes, talismans are delicate, demanding, and everything you said. But that does not mean they are beyond reach. As for Qing He…” He turned toward Feiyu. “I have already asked her for a large favor recently. I will not burden her again so soon. And besides—” his fingers brushed the talisman papers stacked on the table, “—I already have some ideas for how we can move forward.”

Hong Yi frowned, stroking his stubble, unwilling to let go so easily. “Even with ideas, Sect Leader, we lack the numbers. To build any kind of production line, we would need far more cultivators than our sect can provide. It is not like forging where mortals can aid with labor. Talisman crafting… it is not forgiving.”

“That is certainly one idea, Hong Yi. But a line of cultivators… no.” He shook his head slowly. “That was never the path I had in mind. The problem with a production line,” he continued, “is that even if we filled this hall with cultivators, even if they all devoted themselves to talisman craft, not a single talisman would be the exact same as the other. Each stroke would carry variance, each rune bending under the weight of individual qi. Only a true talisman master can replicate consistency across every piece.”

“No,” Chen Ren agreed softly. “We cannot get a talisman master. But—” his eyes glinted, “we can create something that mimics one. A machine. One that inscribes with the accuracy of a talisman master.”

“Huh? A machine?”

Chen Ren nodded. “Yes. Humans falter, grow tired, waver. But a machine… a machine knows no such weakness. It is bound to a single task, and in that task it never strays. Accuracy without fail, replication without exhaustion. I think right now, that is what we need.”

Hong Yi scratched his head. “But how? What sort of machine could even attempt such a thing?”

Chen Ren didn’t answer at once. Instead, he took his time, trying to find the best way to approach his question. He thought and thought until a question struck his mind.

“Tell me, do you know how copies of books are made?” he asked.

Hong Yi frowned, brows knitting together. “Scribes. Patient men with steady hands who spend years copying scripture line by line. That is the only way.”

But Feiyu from the side scoffed and he shook his head. “Not the only way. I have heard whispers of artifacts—ancient ones—capable of copying a book a dozen times over in a single day. Rare treasures, though… and terribly demanding to operate. The qi consumption alone could drain an entire squad of cultivators.”

“Huh?” Hong Yi’s voice almost squeaked and disbelief colored his face. “Artifacts like that exist?!”

“They exist. Or rather, they existed. I have never seen one myself, but there are sects that maintain ties with Guardian Sects solely to borrow such relics. Of course, there is always a price. The Guardian Sects demand a copy in return for every book copied, feeding their own libraries. Even then, such artifacts are so few that I have not heard of anyone forging a new one in centuries. They say the craft is too difficult, too intricate. Beyond the reach of ordinary hands.”

Chen Ren nodded slowly, a faint gleam of recollection passing through his eyes.

He had indeed heard the same from Qing He when he had gone poking around for scraps of knowledge. Those ancient artifacts—their origins were shrouded in mystery, their creators lost to time—were impressive, yes, but inefficient. If they required such effort and drained so much qi for a mere dozen copies, then they were flawed.

His vision was something else entirely.

Hong Yi broke the silence, voice cautious but tinged with a spark of hope.

“So… are we to obtain such an artifact? But one meant for talismans?”

“Something like that. But no—I cannot lay hands on an ancient artifact, nor do I intend to scour ruins chasing ghosts. I don’t want to do that again. What I need is not what was, but what can be. I have an idea, and I need both of your hands to forge it into reality.”

With that, he reached into his sleeve and drew out a folded sheet of paper. He laid the ink stained parchment flat on the table.

It was filled with different lines sprawled across both sides, interlocking parts, gears meshing with rollers and strange, strange channels mapped like veins.

The two men got closer to take a long look. Both of them stared at it for a few minutes before their brows furrowed.

“Uh…” Hong Yi cleared his throat, breaking the thick silence. “I can understand fragments of it… but it is crude. Like looking at an unfinished rune.”

Feiyu flipped the sheet over, finding the reverse side marked with an even rougher attempt. His brows arched, and he gave a blunt snort. “This side is worse. Sect Leader, if we are to build something like this, the design must be far sharper. More precise. As it is…” He tapped the page. “It will collapse before it ever breathes.”

Chen Ren’s lips twitched, caught between embarrassment and stubbornness. He had juggled multiple things at once: cultivation, sect politics, leadership and still he had carved out time to scrawl this mess. He knew it was rough. But it was a start.

Suppressing the urge to defend his penmanship, he looked them both in the eye and asked instead, “So. What do you think of it?”

Feiyu scratched his chin. “It is… certainly thought out. But if such a thing is to function, we will need endless fine-tuning. Gears upon gears, apiece adjusted to a hair’s breadth. If even one moves out of alignment, the entire machine will seize.”

Chen Ren nodded. “Yes, it will be a lengthy process. There are many components that must interlock before it breathes as one. But among all of them, this—” his finger circled the carved plate sketched in rough ink, “—is the heart. The rune plate will determine everything. It must be made properly, and it must change depending on the type of talisman. One plate cannot serve all purposes. Flexibility will be vital.”

His hand slid along the drawing, toward the long rectangular sketch on the side. “As for speed, we cannot waste time on individual sheets. We will use a roller to feed paper into place. One disciple will run it, another will take the finished talismans out, both working in shifts. That way, the machine never rests.”

For a rare moment, Hong Yi said nothing, only narrowing his eyes, his gaze drinking on the page. “That does make sense…” But then he looked up from the paper. “How will you make this rune plate? With what material? Different runes require different vessels. Some demand jade to conduct properly, others respond only to metals, or specially treated wood. The vessel shifts with the meaning.

“And more than that, you are forgetting one thing.” His eyes locked onto Chen Ren’s, and for the first time there was a flicker in them that Chen Ren could not name. Not skepticism, not dismissal. Something keener. Was it… excitement? Hong Yi’s voice dropped to a near growl. “Intent. Talismans need qi and intent of a cultivator. I can envision channels to funnel qi into the plate, yes. But intent is not so simple. Intent is not something you etch into a gear. It is the will of the cultivator, and too arbitrary for us to do it. How do you plan to solve that?”

Stolen novel; please report.

Chen Ren nodded. “That is one of the things we need to solve. I tried to think of a way… and I found nothing yet. But intent is not beyond us, I believe that. With the three of us working together, I believe we can find a solution soon."

Truthfully, even after intent, there were a few things he was confused about despite the printing press inspiration he had taken. That was why he needed both of them. If they could help, the project had a higher chance to succeed.

Feiyu groaned as he settled into his chair.

“Sect Leader, in the evenings, I can spare time to work on it. But tell me, what do we even call this thing?”

Chen Ren’s grin broke out.

I was waiting to say it, he thought to himself and said: “A talisman press.”

***

Chen Ren ended up spending a good chunk of the night with the two of them, the small workshop busy unraveling everything surrounding the talisman press. Questions came like waves, some he had expected, others so sharp and unexpected that they forced him to stop and think. Yet instead of irritation, he found himself filled with clarity—the more questions they asked, the more he realized how vital both of them would be for this endeavor.

Feiyu had been extremely useful with making designs. He’d an unmatched eye for turning rough sketches into breathing, working constructs and it was indispensable. And Hong Yi had long experience in designing puppets, understanding the interplay between qi channels, joints, and carved arrays. He was perfect not only to refine the design of the press itself, but also to integrate the countless internal adjustments that would make it function.

Chen Ren did not fool himself. They would not leap to production within days or weeks. But with their combined strength, he was confident that within the next month, they’d be able to come up with a prototype. Knowing the temperament of both men, he even suspected they would be too excited to not work on it, the challenge burrowing into their minds like fire into kindling.

As for himself, he would focus on securing materials. The plates, the reinforced paper, the treated inks—all costly, none easy to procure. But if they succeeded, if the talisman press became reality, their profits would rival even those of Divine Pill Apothecary. Perhaps even eclipse them.

Though he longed to continue, to push deeper into the endless maze of what-ifs and hows, fatigue eventually pulled at his limbs. He felt the strain. Daily training had taught him a lesson that too many cultivators ignored—that even cultivators needed rest if they wished to grow steadily. So, when midnight arrived, he excused himself with little hesitation.

When he woke up the next morning, however, he learned that the workshop had not fallen silent after his departure. Hong Yi and Feiyu had kept the discussion alive for quite longer than he expected.

That, more than anything, was what Chen Ren had wanted. It meant the talisman press had caught hold of their fancy. It meant the seed was already sprouting.

And that alone was a victory.

But Chen Ren never got the chance to seek out Hong Yi and Feiyu to ask whether they had wrestled more ideas out of the night.

Because that very morning, someone wholly unexpected walked into the village.

Tang Yuqiu herself.

Chen Ren had been waiting for news about his clan, and he had known a message would come eventually. Yet in his heart he had expected Zi Wen to get it through his bird or a nameless subordinate, some quiet courier who would hand him a sealed scroll and vanish again. Instead, Yuqiu strode directly into the sect building without the faintest ripple of warning.

So only an hour after waking, he found himself seated in a chamber, the fragrance of steeping leaves rising gently from the clay pot on the table. Beside him, Tang Xiulan moved gracefully, pouring tea into small cups, while Yuqiu sat across with a small smile playing on her lips.

Yuqiu’s gaze slid toward Xiulan, and her lips curved into a teasing arc. “I hope you have been well. You know, I haven’t found a better maid around the Tang Clan since you left.”

Xiulan’s smile was faint, her posture calm and dignified as always. “I’m sure there are plenty who could do better than me. But yes, I’ve been well. The sect keeps growing, and I am glad to play my part in that.”

Chen Ren interjected. “If not for Xiulan, the sect would have crumbled long ago. She’s the one holding everything together, managing matters I cannot afford to neglect yet lack the time to handle.”

Xiulan’s smile deepened just slightly at his words. She pushed the tea cups gently toward both of them, her sleeves brushing the table’s edge, before bowing her head. “Then I’ll take my leave. There’s still more work waiting.”

And with that, she slipped out, leaving Chen Ren alone with Tang Yuqiu.

The silence lingered for a breath before Chen Ren finally gave voice to the question that had been burning at the edge of his tongue since she arrived.

“So. How do you find the sect? You came here to inspect it with your own eyes, didn’t you?”

Yuqiu’s smile lingered. “I could have come only to speak with you,” she admitted. “But yes, I was curious.” Her eyes drifted across the modest room, noting the clean lines of the wooden walls, the simple furnishing. Then, she let her gaze sweep beyond, toward the bustle of the village outside the window.

“It’s far simpler than I expected,” she said finally. “But I see no scars of the rising. The village is whole, the people are smiling, and there is a sense of order here. It seems,” her eyes returned to Chen Ren, “that you’ve done a good job.”

Chen Ren set his cup down with a soft clink. “I’ve tried to.”

“Not only with the sect, Sect Leader. But your businesses as well. I’ve heard good things about your… exploits in the Darkmoon Sect.”

Chen Ren raised his cup again, sipping slowly before replying. “Tang Boming wrote to you.”

“Yes. Don’t worry, there was nothing in his report you would dislike.”

“It’s fine. We are partners.”

And truthfully, he wasn’t the least bit concerned about Tang Yuqiu knowing the breadth of his ventures. How could he be? He had been using her people, her network, even Tang Boming to push those ventures forward. For her not to be aware would have been impossible. More than that—given how profitable their joint undertakings had already proven, she would be a fool to sour relations over such trivialities. And Tang Yuqiu was no fool.

Her smile deepened, as if his words had been exactly what she expected. “Yes. Partners. And you have surprised me, Chen Ren. A partner who actually gives more than he takes, one who turns profit rather than burns it. But still…” She inhaled sharply. “I did not expect you to turn your eyes toward your clan so soon.”

“I’m only looking for information about them. You never thought I would?”

Yuqiu tilted her head, studying him with a look that was half amusement, half appraisal. “I thought they would be the ones to reach out to you. You’ve been making waves, Chen Ren—echoes of your name are already stirring in the great cities. But I suppose, it’s only natural for you to take advantage of a war and return to Red Peak City.”

Chen Ren froze. His brows drew tight, a faint chill racing down his spine.

“…A war?” He leaned forward slightly. “What do you mean, a war?”

Yuqiu’s smile slipped away like silk torn from a sheath. Her gaze turned hard. “Don’t play games with me, Chen Ren. Don’t pretend ignorance. You should have known already—it’s been going on for some time. Red Peak City is in chaos. The major powers are devouring each other from the inside, and your Chen Clan…your clan is at the very center of it.”

***

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