How the Great Blood claw debate was solved
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Guang Li needed a weapon.
There was an auction next month—one with a Sublime Pill of Water Qi, so potent it could explode careless disciples. Guang very much wanted it. Not for exploding (hopefully), but because that much energy could skyrocket his cultivation.
Unfortunately, the pill was stupidly expensive.
Which meant he had to take on a dangerous mission to earn some serious money.
Which meant he needed a good weapon.
Which meant… his ancestors were going to argue about it for the next twelve hours.
"Big brother Li Big brother Li! Blood Claws!" Jing, his overenthusiastic ten-year-old ghost companion, cheered. "You'd be so cool!"
"Practical," General Guang said with approval. "Blood Qi refining is a solid path. Strengthens the hands, makes your own body into a weapon. You'll never be unarmed."
"An artist must become his own brush," Poet Xu added, nodding sagely.
Guang Li blinked. "That… actually sounds useful."
This was his mistake.
Because now the ghosts had an opening.
"Right?!" Jing clapped. "Think about it, Big brother Li! No more worrying about losing your sword in battle!"
"Your punches will go through steel," General Guang said.
"The Blood Claws are a rare technique," Poet Xu added. "It will make you stand out! The world will remember the name Guang Li, the Crimson Talon!"
"That… sounds kind of impressive," Guang admitted.
"Oh! Oh! You could be the Shadow Claw!"
"Or the Red Reaper!"
Guang was starting to feel pretty cool about this.
"Right, right," he muttered. "So how does it work? I just refine my nails, and—"
"No."
A cold, familiar voice cut through the air.
Grand-Aunt Bao had arrived.
"Absolutely not," she said.
Guang Li blinked. "Why?"
"I knew a man who refined his nails into claws," Grand-Aunt Bao said darkly. "Do you know what happened?"
Guang Li shook his head.
"He had to eat with chopsticks for the rest of his life."
Silence.
"...That's not so bad," Guang said.
"He couldn't pick up a single dumpling."
Jing gasped. "No dumplings?!"
"His robes? Destroyed. He shredded every bedsheet he owned."
"…That does sound inconvenient," Guang admitted.
"And forget about skin contact!" Grand-Aunt Bao pressed. "Do you ever want to hold hands again, Li?"
Guang Li frowned. "That's not really a concern—"
"DO YOU WANT TO DIE ALONE, BOY?!"
"…I mean, not really."
"Exactly!" She threw up her hands. "You'll stab yourself in your sleep! You'll never be able to scratch your nose without drawing blood! You'll be a walking nightmare!"
Guang Li hesitated. "…That does sound bad."
Second Uncle Wen, who had been silently drinking ghost tea in the background(And where did they get this ,first grandpa ji with his folding chair and now ghost tea? was there an entire ghost economy he wasnt aware of !?), finally sighed. "Or," he said, "you could just buy a sword."
Silence.
"…What?" General Guang frowned, deeply offended.
Second Uncle Wen sighed. "Weapons. Stores have them. Just go to the armory and buy a perfectly normal sword."
Jing looked betrayed. "That's so boring."
"It's practical," Second Uncle Wen corrected.
"It's shameful," General Guang grumbled.
"It's functional," Second Uncle Wen countered.
"It's pathetic," General Guang growled.
"It's a sword," Second Uncle Wen snapped.
Grand-Aunt Bao scoffed. "Honestly, I agree with Wen this time. If the alternative is knife-fingers, a sword is perfectly fine."
"A true cultivator crafts his own path!" Poet Xu protested. "What of a saber? Or a fan? Or a—"
"NO ONE USES COMBAT FANS, GUANG XU."
Poet Xu gasped, personally insulted. "I am beginning to regret binding myself to this family."
"YOU'VE BEEN SAYING THAT FOR TWO HUNDRED YEARS, WE GET IT."
While the ghosts were yelling at each other, Guang Li just…
Started making a weapon.
His hands moved automatically, following the refining techniques the ghosts had drilled into him over the past months. He gathered materials, worked the metal, and infused it with qi.
By the time the argument had escalated into Poet Xu dramatically composing a haiku about betrayal, Guang Li was already done.
He held up his creation.
It was a sword.
Not a grand saber. Not a razor fan.
Just a long dagger, really.
Plain. Unimpressive.
The ghosts all turned to look at it.
Then at him.
Then at the sword again.
Collective disappointment filled the air.
"…That's it?" Jing asked, deeply offended.
"It's so boring," Poet Xu whispered, horrified.
"It lacks elegance," Grand-Aunt Bao sniffed.
"It's functional," Second Uncle Wen said approvingly, before sighing. "But gods, it's dull."
General Guang just looked betrayed.
Guang Li stared at them all, deadpan. "I'm going on this mission tomorrow. This works. It cuts things."
Silence.
Then, Poet Xu dramatically turned away.
"I have never been more ashamed in my life."
"You were literally executed for tax fraud," Second Uncle Wen pointed out.
"The Dao of tax fraud is a profound one ,This is
worse."
Guang Li rubbed his temples.
He had a weapon. He had a mission. And now, he had a dozen disappointed ancestors.
"Whatever," he muttered. "As long as I get that damn pill."
The ghosts immediately started arguing about the auction.
Guang Li sighed.
This was his life now.
----------------------------------------------
@uri anyway ill spend 4 points to cover the fire qi debt .