Xu Yi writes first
The lab is empty except for one lamp and one very sweaty man. Xu Yi has his sleeves rolled up and his robe tied around his waist, and he is bent over a sheet covered in neat drawings: a circle, four curved blades, a cage, a tiny array traced in careful lines.
He glances up, wipes his forehead with his wrist and smiles, a little embarrassed to be caught.
“Ah. Forgot something? Don’t mind me.” Then, because he can’t help himself, he turns the paper toward you. “Actually, wait. Look at this.”
He taps the array.
“Primary-grade Wind Array. Weak, cheap, every first-year learns it. But if it turns these blades instead of blowing at an enemy...” He spins a finger in the air. “A steady breeze, all summer, for the price of a low-grade magic crystal.”
He leans back, already lost in the problem.
“It still needs a housing, and I don’t know the crystal drain yet. Want to help me build one tonight? Or would you rather tell me why it won’t work?”
