The wooden lid of Frank’s backup tool chest rested back against the cedar siding of Classroom 404 with a heavy, satisfying clatter.
Inside the three-inch white oak chest, resting in custom-cut green felt compartments, were five tools.
They weren’t glittering relics forged from the bones of sky phoenixes or dipped in the blood of ancient demon sovereigns.
They were working implements. Forged from high-carbon heavy-duty tool steel, seasoned mountain hickory, polished plumbing brass, and electrolytic copper.
Each tool showed faint, honorable traces of past upkeep. Thin films of machine oil on the steel, smooth hand-polished wear along the wooden handles, and the clear scent of clean shop grease.
The five students stood before the open chest, their eyes fixed on the compartments.
A quiet, trembling doubt flickered in Shen Shitou’s deep chest.
“Master...” Shitou rumbled softly, his large hands knotting together before his canvas tool belt. “When you step beyond the golden clouds... We’ll no longer have your bug tracker. We’ll not see the red error codes in the air. If the heavens shudder... How will we know what’s broken?”
