The flatulence crisis was imminent.
Li Changshou sat cross-legged in his corner, his expression as serene as a still pond, while his spiritual sense mapped every escape route from the Du Xian Sect's seating area with meticulous precision. The exit to the left was blocked by two large-seated cultivators from a minor sect. The right side led to a row of clam maidens currently arranging fruit platters. Directly behind him was a stone balustrade overlooking the sea, which offered a three-point-seven-second window for an Earth Escape—if one did not mind arriving at the bottom of the ocean wet and surrounded by seaweed.
He had already calculated seventeen scenarios, each with a corresponding contingency plan, ranked by social embarrassment and physical discomfort.
At the moment, six of the eleven Du Xian Sect disciples had consumed the Ice Condensation Immortal Grapes. The effects would not be immediate—the grapes required time to break down in the stomach, fermenting slightly against the immortal qi before the lower meridians began to protest.
Youqin Xuanya, the seventh, sat three seats away from Li Changshou. She had not stopped eating since his warning. In fact, she appeared to be sampling every variety of fruit on the table with an expression of scholarly curiosity. Li Changshou could only admire her dedication to investigation.
"Junior Sister Youqin," he said quietly through a voice transmission, "you have now consumed the most grapes of anyone present."
Youqin Xuanya nodded slightly. "I am testing whether Senior Brother Changshou's assessment of these fruits was accurate."
Li Changshou's mouth twitched. "And has your assessment concluded?"
"I believe the Dragon Palace has excellent taste in fruit," she replied solemnly.
He decided not to press the matter. The wine on the table, he had noted, was the same variety—brewed from the same grapes. Several of the elder disciples had already finished two cups.
The assembly continued around them with the usual pomp. The two Chancellor Turtles had retreated after their initial announcements, replaced by a troupe of sea performers. Clam maidens played instruments that seemed to produce sound from the waves themselves. Dolphins leaped in coordinated arcs, their songs harmonizing with the trills of sea dragons.
None of this reached Li Changshou's attention. He was monitoring the duodenum meridians of his fellow disciples.
The first sign of trouble appeared forty minutes after the grape consumption.
His senior brother, whose name Li Changshou had not bothered to memorize because he intended to forget it immediately after the trip, shifted uncomfortably on his cushion. The movement was subtle—barely a twitch of the left shoulder—but to Li Changshou's practiced observation, it might as well have been a flag being raised.
Two minutes later, another disciple crossed his legs. Then uncrossed them. Then crossed them again, slightly tighter.
Li Changshou closed his eyes. He had already prepared his own countermeasure: a small paper figure hidden inside his robe, configured to absorb and disperse any sound within a radius of half a cubit. It would not help with the smell, but at least it would preserve auditory dignity.
The crisis began in earnest when Jiu Jiu returned.
She had been sitting with the female immortals near the front, having successfully maintained her "obedient junior" persona for the entire duration of the assembly's opening ceremony. But the grape wine had been placed near the immortals as well, and Jiu Jiu—who could not resist alcohol the way some people could not resist breathing—had consumed no fewer than four cups.
She moved quickly now, her face flushed not from embarrassment but from the wine, weaving through the rows of seated cultivators with an urgency that would have attracted attention if anyone had been paying attention.
"Junior Brother Changshou," she whispered fiercely as she reached his position. "I need to stand in front of you. Right now. Do not ask questions."
Li Changshou understood immediately.
He remained seated, his expression unchanged, as Jiu Jiu positioned herself directly before him, her long robes billowing slightly as she settled into place. From anyone watching, she appeared to be an elder having a quiet word with a junior disciple.
What they could not see was that Jiu Jiu had grabbed the hem of Li Changshou's robe and pulled it taut behind her, creating a makeshift screen.
"Sorry," Jiu Jiu breathed, her face a mask of concentration. "The wine. I shouldn't have—"
A sound escaped.
It was not loud. In the cacophony of the assembly—performers, conversations, the ever-present murmur of the sea—it would have been lost entirely, except that it occurred during a brief lull between performances, and the cultivators immediately surrounding them possessed hearing far sharper than mortals'.
Li Changshou felt three nearby disciples stiffen.
Jiu Jiu's face went from flushed to scarlet.
But Li Changshou was already moving. He had rehearsed this scenario. With a casual gesture, he knocked over the small tea kettle on the table, sending a cascade of warm liquid across the surface and toward the edge nearest the offending area. Simultaneously, he activated the paper figure inside his robe, which released a burst of fragrance—specifically, the scent of plum blossoms—designed to mask organic odors for a radius of two meters.
"Ah," he said, his voice carrying just enough volume to draw nearby attention. "How clumsy of me."
Several disciples looked over, saw the spilled tea, and looked away with expressions of mild amusement. The moment passed.
Jiu Jiu exhaled so hard she nearly toppled forward.
From across the seating area, an elder of the Du Xian Sect—one of the six True Immortals—raised his hand. A faint shimmer appeared in the air around the Du Xian delegation's section, barely visible in the sunlight. Sound barrier. The elder had been watching the entire time, and had simply waited for the most discreet moment to deploy it.
Li Changshou met the elder's gaze for a fraction of a second. The elder gave an almost imperceptible nod, then returned his attention to the assembly.
*'At least one person in this sect has some situational awareness,'* Li Changshou thought.
The flatulence, however, was only beginning.
Within the next ten minutes, five more disciples succumbed. The sound barrier helped with the auditory component, but it did nothing for the olfactory dimension.
The Du Xian Sect's seating area was located near the edge of the platform, adjacent to the section occupied by the Xiaoyao Donglin—followers of the Jie Teaching who had come from a small coastal island. Their delegation consisted primarily of cultivators with aquatic bloodlines, and among them were several clam maidens.
Clam maidens possessed an extraordinarily sensitive sense of smell, evolved to detect predators and food sources in the murky depths of the ocean. What reached them from the Du Xian Sect's direction was, to their refined sensibilities, approximately equivalent to someone detonating a spiritual bomb made of fermented seaweed in a confined space.
One by one, the clam maidens closed their shells.
The motion was not subtle. Each maiden's humanoid form contracted, her graceful limbs folding inward as her iridescent shell snapped shut with an audible clack. Within seconds, six clam maidens had retreated entirely into their shells, which rocked slightly on their stands like unsettled boats.
The Jie Teaching cultivators looked confused. One of them, an elderly man with a long white beard, leaned toward the Du Xian Sect's section and inhaled cautiously.
His face went through several colors in rapid succession.
"Junior brothers," he said carefully, "I believe we should relocate our seating."
The relocation happened quickly and without explanation. The Xiaoyao Donglin delegation moved three rows back, citing "a better view of the performers."
Li Changshou watched the exodus with a neutral expression.
Youqin Xuanya, who had been seated with her back to the commotion, finally turned around. "Senior Brother Changshou, why has the Xiaoyao Donglin section moved?"
"Perhaps they prefer a different vantage point," he replied.
"Youqin Xuanya nodded and returned to her fruit.
The elder who had deployed the sound barrier materialized beside Li Changshou—literally materialized, stepping out of the air with the casual ease of a True Immortal.
"Young friend," the elder said, his voice low and urgent, "you seem remarkably composed."
"The assembly requires composure, Elder."
The elder studied him for a moment. "The rest of your delegation does not share your... fortitude."
"I cannot control the actions of others, Elder. Only my own."
The elder's mouth twitched. "A piece of advice, young friend. If anyone asks about the unusual atmosphere around our delegation, we shall say it is a side effect of a rare medicinal fruit served by the Dragon Palace. As long as we stay calm, we can pretend nothing happened."
"A wise strategy, Elder."
"And you—" the elder paused, "—you did not eat the grapes."
It was not a question.
Li Changshou smiled politely. "I found them quite agreeable, actually. I simply exercised restraint."
The elder gave him one more long look, then returned to his position without another word.
The assembly dragged on. The flatulence peaked approximately an hour after the grapes had been consumed, then gradually subsided. The sound barrier held throughout. The plum blossom fragrance did its work. The Xiaoyao Donglin delegation eventually recovered enough courage to return to their original seats, though they kept their clam maidens' shells firmly closed.
By the time the formal sparring demonstrations began, the crisis had passed.
Jiu Jiu, who had been hovering near Li Changshou's position for the past hour under the pretense of "watching the junior disciples," finally retreated to the elder section. Before she left, she transmitted a message:
"I owe you one, Junior Brother Changshou. Next time you need anything—anything at all—just ask."
Li Changshou considered this. "Senior Aunt, I would appreciate it if you could forget this entire episode."
"Done," she said immediately, with the enthusiasm of someone who very much wanted to forget.
The rest of the assembly proceeded without further incident, though Li Changshou noted that the Dragon Palace had not repeated the prank. Perhaps they had gotten the reaction they wanted. Perhaps they were saving their next trick for later. Either way, he would remain vigilant.
As the Du Xian Sect's delegation departed the water lotus platform in the late afternoon, the sun casting long golden paths across the East Sea, Li Changshou allowed himself a single, controlled exhale.
He had survived the Demon-Quelling Assembly's opening gambit. The actual negotiations and sparring matches would begin the following day.
He needed to rest. He needed to prepare. He needed to ensure that no further surprises awaited him.
...
Across the East Sea, on Xiaoqiong Peak, an old man stumbled through the mountain-protecting grand formation with the unsteady gait of someone who had consumed an inadvisable quantity of alcohol.
Qi Yuan, Li Changshou's master, had returned from his unsanctioned three-month drinking excursion to find his peak conspicuously quiet. His only disciple was away at the assembly. The cultivation grounds were empty. Even the chickens Blue Ling'e had been raising had been left in the care of a junior from a neighboring peak.
On the stone table beneath the old tree, he found a jade slip.
He picked it up and pressed it to his forehead.
*Master,*
*I have departed for the East Sea Dragon Palace as part of the sect's delegation. I expect to return within the month.*
*During my absence, please remember to water the herbs in the eastern garden every three days. The spiritual soil requires consistent moisture to maintain its potency. I have prepared enough spirit water in the blue ceramic jar by the herb shed for the duration of my trip.*
*Additionally, the supply of Fire-Extinguishing Pills in the pill chamber has been restocked. They are in the third drawer from the left, second shelf, in the red lacquered box marked with a single dot.*
*Do not open the sealed room in the back of the pill chamber under any circumstances. The formation inside is in a delicate state of flux and could destabilize if disturbed.*
*I have also prepared meals sufficient for one month in the cold-storage array. Reheating instructions are attached to each container.*
*Your disciple, Li Changshou.*
*P.S. Please do not attempt to brew any pills while I am away.*
Qi Yuan read the message twice, then stared at the empty peak for a long moment.
His disciple had left him a detailed survival manual.
For a month.
Because Qi Yuan could not, historically, be trusted to feed himself without supervision.
He sank onto the stone bench, jade slip still pressed to his forehead, and sighed deeply.
"Changshou," he muttered to the empty air, "you worry too much."
He then opened the blue ceramic jar, found a label that read "Master's Evening Tea—Do Not Add Wine," and immediately began looking for wine to add to it.
On the other side of the continent, Li Changshou sneezed once, quietly, and resumed his meditation.