Chosen: Beyond Fate

Under that same night sky, amid the sound of the tides, a robed craftsman knocked on the door of a workshop. Jiang Tongguang grinned at the stern-faced, bearded man before him. “Ah, what a beautiful moon tonight. Mr. Gustav, sorry to bother you.”

Gustav looked thoroughly unamused. He did not even bother to smile. “Mr. Jiang. What brings you here this late?”

Jiang Tongguang raised the bottle in his hand and gave it a shake. “A batch of whiskey I made recently just came out of the cellar. It’s only been aged five years, but it turned out pretty well. Care to have a drink?”

The two stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Gustav sighed and stepped aside. “Come in.”

The workshop’s sitting room was as cluttered as ever. Drafts and materials lay scattered everywhere, leaving barely any room to walk.

As fellow craftsmen, they were both used to this sort of thing. Jiang Tongguang couldn’t be bothered figuring out which manuscripts were important and which weren’t, so he simply planted himself on Gustav’s desk. Of all the things piled around the room, that stack of official paperwork was probably the least important anyway.

He casually waved a hand. The physical properties of the air shifted, then gathered and condensed into two wide-mouthed glasses that dropped into his hands with a clear clink.

“Want some ice?” Jiang Tongguang poured the clear liquor into the glasses and swirled it gently. A rich, sweet aroma rose from the amber whiskey.

“I don’t hold my liquor well, so I’ll pass.” Gustav picked up his own mug, filled as always with nothing but plain water.

“More for me, then.” Jiang Tongguang smiled and downed one glass himself before teasing, “Keeping yourself wound this tight all the time can’t be healthy. You should relax once in a while.”

“I believe we already discussed my personality last month and reached no conclusion,” Gustav replied bluntly. “If you came here for something, just say it. There’s no need to waste either of our time.”

“I know, I know. Efficiency above all else.” Jiang Tongguang set down his glass and sat cross-legged on Gustav’s desk, his expression turning serious. “Good news. Under the rule that the eight council members take turns each term, you’ll once again be in charge of presiding over, supervising, and evaluating this year’s craftsman examination.”

“And the bad news?” Gustav asked.

“The bad news is that everyone’s worried you’ll have too much on your plate, so they sent me along to assist you.” Jiang Tongguang shrugged. “Of course, you know how lazy I am, so don’t expect me to be particularly enthusiastic about it. I’m mostly there in name only. If you’re planning anything earth-shattering, just give me a heads-up beforehand so I can stay well out of the way and avoid ruining your plans.”

By long-standing association practice, the craftsman examination was held once every three years, with the eight council members taking turns presiding over it. It was simply one of the privileges that came with being a council member.

Even if whoever was in charge took the opportunity to give a little preferential treatment to their own people, as long as they did not go too far and could justify it openly, everyone generally turned a blind eye. If any other council member had suddenly tried to involve themselves in the examination, the person presiding over it might as well have taken offense.

But Jiang Tongguang was different. Even within an association rife with vicious factional struggles, Jiang Tongguang was an oddity, arguably even more unusual than a hard-liner like Gustav. To this day, his workshop consisted of no one but himself. He had no students and hardly any close friends. He fought for neither power nor profit, built no faction of his own, and stayed out of political struggles altogether.

He treated people kindly and never put on airs. Even when some fool occasionally offended him, he was usually magnanimous enough to let them off with little more than a token punishment.

Within the council, he was the resident peacemaker, always mediating disputes and keeping the various sides in balance. His most common responses were, “I don’t mind,” “Either works,” and “You decide.”

Gustav immediately understood what was going on and sneered. “So they even sent you here to play ‘good cop.’ Just how little does Delon trust me?”

“They’re worried you’ll start swinging the axe again.” Jiang Tongguang shook his head with a sigh, then drained another glass and smacked his lips appreciatively. “The council suffered enough the last time you presided over the examination. Several major projects in both the Federation and the Empire almost had to shut down. The previous chairman was already bald, and you nearly made him lose what little hair he had left. Mr. Delon is close to retirement now. He’d rather not ruin his reputation right at the end of his career.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t be quite so unreasonable this time.” Gustav’s voice was thick with sarcasm. “As long as their juniors and protégés don’t make complete fools of themselves, I naturally won’t go out of my way to embarrass anyone.”

Jiang Tongguang lowered his head and poured himself another glass. “Leave me out of it, old friend. Don’t catch me in the crossfire. As long as you don’t load all the candidates onto a bus, ship them off to some deserted island, hand each of them a gun, and tell them only one person gets to come back alive as a craftsman, I’m fine with whatever you do.”

“If that were allowed, we might actually uncover a few worthwhile talents.” Gustav snorted. “Relax, Jiang. I’m not some social Darwinist, nor am I a homicidal maniac who enjoys making everyone miserable. I simply want the exam to be what it is supposed to be. An examination hall is an examination hall. It isn’t a playground for council members to indulge in power games. Just look at all these ‘outstanding apprentices’ who applied this year. With this much ‘talent’ on paper, it’s a wonder there’s any room left in my workshop.”

With that, he waved a hand and tossed a stack of application forms onto the desk. Even Jiang Tongguang found the assortment eye-opening. There was an “eighteen-year-old” old-timer who was obviously well past the age limit but had still shamelessly written “I’m eighteen this year” on the form, and a “young prodigy” from the Federation who had somehow built up a towering list of publications at a tender age, supposedly churning out dozens of papers every year since he was seven.

Beyond those, however, most were apprentices recommended by various workshops. Every single one had some connection to a master or craftsman. Every application came with thick letters of recommendation praising the candidate to the skies. The letters made every one of them sound like a future master craftsman, a grandmaster in the making, destined to reshape Modern Alchemy and lead it into a new age.

The letters practically made it sound like, if such candidates still failed the examination, then Gustav himself had to be blind to talent.

But in reality, how many of them were genuine talents, and how many were complete frauds?

Jiang Tongguang clicked his tongue in amazement. Whenever his turn had come around in the past, he had always found some excuse to pass the responsibility on to the next council member. He had never personally dealt with anything quite this outrageous. Though, admittedly, he had expected something along these lines.

“So, what are you planning to do?”

“What else? Handle it the way it should be handled.” Gustav waved dismissively and tossed the pile of applications and recommendation letters onto a heap of old paperwork. “There are too many walking parrots who know nothing but rote memorization. They can recite theory flawlessly and talk as though they understand everything under the sun, but the moment they’re asked to actually make something, they’re useless.

“We already have more than enough critics. The association doesn’t need another army of people who only know how to talk. I want to reopen the Myriad Transformations Tower!”

Jiang Tongguang gasped in shock, then poured himself another glass to steady his nerves. “There are nearly a thousand applicants this year. The resources that would take...”

He paused. “If Delon found out, he’d probably rather you load them all onto a bus and send them to a deserted island for a death match! Being chairman was never supposed to be easy. He can’t expect to avoid every unpleasant consequence, or to get all the benefits without paying a price.”

Gustav sneered. “Even real gold has to be tested by fire. Unless you squeeze out all the padding, how are you supposed to know how much of that impressive display is nothing but fluff?”

“Can’t argue with that.” Jiang Tongguang kept knocking back his drink. The bottle was almost empty by now.

Strictly speaking, as the assistant specially assigned by the council, this was probably the point where he should have tried to persuade Gustav not to go too far, spare the innocent budget, and remind him that everything was negotiable.

But then he decided there was no point wasting his breath. It wasn’t like Gustav would listen anyway. Besides, who cared about the budget when there was a show this good to watch? He might as well enjoy his drink instead.

Glass in hand, Jiang Tongguang rose to say goodbye and left Gustav’s workshop, humming as he walked beneath the moonlight.

Not far away, beneath the cliffs, the sea surged, the sound of the tides never ceasing.

Under the stars, upon the Endless Sea between the Empire and the Federation, stood the headquarters of the Taiyi Ring. It was the most extraordinary place among the Thousand Islands, a marvel of the mortal world built and shaped by generations of craftsmen. Located on Starpivot Isle, it was an emerald of the sea, a jewel born of the furnace.

Amid the sound of the waves, everything lay quiet during the night. In the distance, the association grounds slept peacefully. For now, everything remained silent.

Jiang Tongguang whistled, anticipation welling up inside him. It was easy to see what was coming. Things were about to get lively.