Before he left the grotto, Pei Jing wrapped the money in oiled linen. Two hundred and eight low-grade spirit stones were available to spend. Another hundred and seventy-six stayed sealed in reserve. He put the older seven silver pieces and four hundred and twenty coppers with the sixteen silver pieces and three thousand two hundred coppers he’d recovered. That made twenty-three silver pieces and three thousand six hundred and twenty coppers in mortal money.
His wrist guard still held twelve Gale Burst needles. He took two spare four-inch cold-iron needles from the tool roll, sealed a trace of qi from the centipede venom sacs into each one, and put them within reach. The four wolf-tooth needles stayed wrapped apart.
His four gourds of dry earth silt were sealed. He was still getting used to the weight of his new bones.
He tucked the two spare needles into his left breast pocket and lifted the packed frame onto his back.
He looked back at the grotto. Clear water trickled over the scalloped rim of the lotus basin and went into the drain. The light on the walls had faded. He’d taken what the pool had gathered over five hundred years and left the stone as clean as he’d found it.
