Teenage card master

The blade-like tip of the pen glided gently over a pale grayish-blue card. Delicate blue lines flowed smoothly from beneath the nib. On the palm-sized card, the faint blue lines multiplied gradually, forming an intricate and mysterious pattern that grew ever more perfect with each stroke. Chen Mu’s gaze was fixed intently on the card, his breathing slow and measured, as if afraid to disturb something. A closer look would reveal that his right arm remained completely still from start to finish—only his wrist moved. His right wrist was as flexible as a snake, supple and boneless. With a slight twist of the pen, an elegant arc appeared on the card. Suddenly, the nib paused heavily, abandoning its earlier lightness, then swiftly executed a sharp hook—like the edge of a blade! The pattern on the card flashed brightly for an instant before dimming just as quickly, returning to normal. Chen Mu casually placed it among the pile of cards stacked on the table. His movements were practiced and natural, without the slightest hesitation. Even after completing this card, his expression remained as focused as ever. He had only finished fifteen so far, still ten short of today’s quota. The card he was currently making was a one-star energy card—the lowest grade, yet one of the most widely used and consumed cards. Just then, the room plunged into darkness. "Damn it, out of energy again!" Chen Mu muttered under his breath. With his left hand, he randomly pulled an energy card from the pile and pressed it lightly against his right wrist. The duyi strapped to his right wrist emitted a bright beam of light. Guided by the beam, Chen Mu carefully made his way to the corner—the room was too cluttered to risk knocking anything over. On the wall in the corner was a square meter with a slot beneath it. Chen Mu inserted the energy card into the slot. The moment the card slid into place, light returned to the room. The meter displayed the number one hundred. He hadn’t expected the energy to run out—now today’s quota would have to increase by one. Back at the table, Chen Mu threw himself into his work without delay. His entire livelihood depended on these lowest-tier cards. Ever since he learned to craft them three years ago, he had never missed his daily quota of twenty-five. Chen Mu’s room was very small, less than forty square meters, with a semi-old work desk inside. Apart from the relatively clean work desk, the rest of the room was cluttered with piles of miscellaneous items—stacks of old books and scattered raw materials of all kinds. In this humble place, Chen Mu had lived for three full years. It was a relief housing unit specifically provided by the federal government. For a small room like this, the monthly rent was only 150 Oudi. For someone as poor as Chen Mu, there was no cheaper place to live. Moreover, in his view, his situation was already quite decent—he had even seen families of four crammed into a room of the same size. At 5 p.m., Chen Mu finally finished his day’s work—25 energy cards. He carefully counted them twice to ensure the number was correct before cautiously placing the cards into the cardholder inside his clothes. Stepping onto the street, the night had already grown thick. The dazzling lights lingered in the darkness, while the occasional passing shuttle cars left fleeting trails of fiery brilliance in the sky. Chen Mu tightened his coat slightly and glanced upward. The chill was deepening—winter must be approaching. He had no time to dwell on the passage of time, only the added expense of heating in the winter, which he silently calculated in his mind. Passing by the back gate of Dongwei Academy, this was a route Chen Mu had walked for three years. Yet, every time he saw the students coming and going in groups, an inexplicable emotion still welled up in his heart. Collecting himself, Chen Mu quickened his pace toward a small shop near the academy. The shop was named "Dongwei Grocery"—around Dongwei Academy, there were at least twenty similar shops with the same name. For three years, Chen Mu had visited this shop daily without fail, rain or shine. However, he wasn’t there to buy anything—on the contrary, he was there to sell. As soon as he entered, the shop owner noticed him and greeted, "Ah Mu, you’re here!" "Yeah, Uncle Hua," he replied. The owner, Uncle Hua, was an elderly man around fifty years old, bearing the unmistakable marks of time—fine wrinkles, half-gray hair, and a pair of reading glasses. "Here’s today’s batch." Chen Mu carefully took out the cardholder from his pocket, pulled out the stack of energy cards, and handed them to the owner. "Twenty-five cards." Uncle Hua took the cards from Chen Mu and placed them on the shelf without even looking, smiling as he said, "Thankfully, you deliver cards every day, Ah Mu. Otherwise, my stock would run short." Chen Mu smiled faintly but didn’t respond. He knew Uncle Hua’s words were mostly in jest. One-star energy cards were the cheapest but also among the most consumed, especially near the Eastguard Academy—how could only twenty-five cards be sold in a day? Uncle Hua was also aware of Chen Mu’s temperament and didn’t waste words, asking directly, "Ah Mu, do you need cash or a transfer?" "Transfer," Chen Mu replied promptly, handing over a pale green Dika card he had prepared in advance. After settling the payment, Chen Mu bid farewell to Uncle Hua and turned to leave. Suddenly, Uncle Hua called out, "Ah Mu, wait a moment." Chen Mu stopped and turned back, looking at Uncle Hua with slight surprise. "Is there something else, Uncle Hua?" Uncle Hua pulled out a pale yellow slip from his drawer and smiled at Chen Mu. "I nearly forgot something. This is an admission pass for a card-maker training class, given as a freebie by the supplier during yesterday’s stock-up. It’s just gathering dust here—you take it, Ah Mu." Gazing at Uncle Hua’s kindly face, Chen Mu felt a surge of emotion. He knew how much this elderly man had helped him over the years. Without him, Chen Mu believed his current life would have remained an unattainable dream. Three years ago, he had just learned to make energy cards and tried selling them everywhere, but few showed interest. No merchants were willing to buy them. The demand for one-star energy cards was massive, and merchants preferred bulk purchases. Chen Mu could produce at most thirty cards a day—a negligible amount for businesses. Fortunately, he met Uncle Hua, who agreed to buy his cards at 103 Odi apiece, two Odi lower than the market’s wholesale price. Despite this, Chen Mu remained deeply grateful to him. Four years ago, Chen Mu was a homeless wanderer. Once, he encountered a dying card-maker. Using his five months’ worth of saved food, he bargained for seven extra days of the card-maker’s life. In those seven days, he learned one skill: crafting one-star energy cards. The card-maker left no belongings behind after death, and Chen Mu buried him in the wilderness. To this day, he still didn’t know the card-maker’s name, but his fate had begun to change from that moment. He spent a year doing his utmost to take on odd jobs, during which he worked six different types of temporary labor. That year, he was twelve years old. It was also during this year that he finally managed to save a small sum—one thousand Oudi. With this money, he bought all the raw materials needed to produce energy cards. The card maker had once told him that the wholesale price of a one-star energy card was 105 Oudi, with a fixed retail price of 110 Oudi, while its cost was only 98 Oudi. Every card maker knows how to produce one-star energy cards, but few are aware of the price difference. And even if they knew, almost no one would bother exploiting it. One-star energy cards are among the simplest to make and have long been industrialized. Even a master card maker could produce no more than twenty or thirty cards a day—a pitifully low output. Moreover, for card makers, the meager profit from this margin isn’t worth bending down to pick up off the ground. But for Chen Mu, this money was enough to keep him fed. His first successful batch yielded eight cards, costing him nearly a 200-Oudi loss, yet it gave him hope. However, he didn’t expect to face obstacles when trying to sell them. Merchants showed no interest in the handful of energy cards he had. After running around all day without eating, he stumbled into Uncle Hua’s shop at 8 p.m. His legs trembled as he entered, and the day without food had brought him to the brink of collapse. Though the price of 103 Oudi was lower than the wholesale rate of 105, Chen Mu felt overwhelmed with joy. After selling all his energy cards, he bought the cheapest food and spent the rest on raw materials for more cards. From then on, Chen Mu’s life finally stabilized. Twenty-five energy cards a day—without a single day’s interruption. Three years passed like this. Throughout this time, he produced only one type of card: the one-star energy card. By the second year, he had reduced the cost to 97 Oudi. Though just a one-Oudi difference, it was a tremendous encouragement for him. Outside of card-making, he devoted all his time to researching how to further cut costs. By the third year, he had managed to reduce the cost of energy cards to ninety-five Oudi each, earning a profit of eight Oudi per card. His daily income stabilized at two hundred Oudi—a figure he couldn’t have even imagined three years ago. With a monthly income of six thousand Oudi, he could now afford an ordinary lifestyle, yet he still chose to live in the subsidized housing that cost only one hundred fifty Oudi per month. Snapping out of his thoughts, Chen Mu smiled at Uncle Hua: “Thank you, Uncle Hua!” He took the lecture pass and carefully tucked it into the card holder inside his coat. Training programs, especially those for card makers, were among the most rampant types of workshops at the time. They often boasted extravagant advertisements—like the claims on this lecture pass: “Dongwei Academy Accredited” or “Taught by Dongwei Academy’s Senior Master Card Maker,” and so on. But Chen Mu knew exactly what lay beneath the surface. The organization running this program had only one connection to Dongwei Academy: they paid a fee to maintain the nominal “joint partnership.” Chen Mu still planned to attend and see what the training program had to offer. Card making was one of the most profound disciplines, and despite years of self-study, his progress had been minimal. It wasn’t until last year that he realized the root of the problem—his foundation was simply too weak. Over a decade of life as a wanderer had left him without any formal education. For a teenager with no foundation whatsoever, attempting to self-study the notoriously complex and esoteric art of card making was an uphill battle. Yet he never doubted his own intelligence. After all, he had mastered crafting one-star energy cards purely by memory within a week—a feat that had once earned him high praise for his talent from a seasoned card maker. From then on, he set aside this overly ambitious goal and turned instead to mastering the most fundamental theories. No matter how exhausting his workdays were, he always carved out time to study these dry, tedious concepts. After bidding farewell to Uncle Hua, Chen Mu headed south through a narrow alley. It was Saturday, and he still had another job to attend to. Crossing two streets and walking for about twenty minutes, he arrived at a second-hand card recycling station. “Hey, buddy, you’re here!” The greeting came from a dark, skinny, bald man named Xiao Hei—the owner of the station. Every Saturday and Sunday evening, Chen Mu worked here for three hours as a part-timer. Chen Mu gave Xiao Hei a slight nod, though his face still carried traces of blank detachment. Xiao Hei had long grown accustomed to Chen Mu’s demeanor. When Chen Mu first came to ask for a temporary job, Xiao Hei had initially refused. This recycling station had been managed single-handedly since his father’s time, and it remained the same under his own care. Hiring someone? Xiao Hei couldn’t afford the wages. However, when Chen Mu said he didn’t want payment, Xiao Hei finally agreed. Of course, Chen Mu still received compensation—usually by selecting a few discarded cards to take as his wages. Sometimes, Chen Mu would even pick out a few unused energy cards from the waste pile. Xiao Hei did the math and realized the savings each month were substantial. But the quiet and reserved Chen Mu piqued his curiosity—how did this guy know these cards still had residual energy? But ever since then, Xiao Hei couldn’t help but beam with joy every time he saw Chen Mu. Chen Mu crouched down and began sorting through the pile of discarded cards. There were many types—energy cards, item cards, mimicry cards, and even some rare plant and animal cards. But without exception, all the cards here were useless. Chen Mu’s task was simply to categorize them. The work progressed quickly—it was clear he was very familiar with the job. With a flick of his wrist, Chen Mu tossed a card to Xiao Hei: "Here, this one still has some use left." This two-star energy card contained at least half its energy, and Chen Mu couldn’t understand why its original owner had been so wasteful. A two-star energy card had a capacity of one thousand, meaning there were still about five hundred units of energy left. "Hehe, thanks, Brother Chen!" Xiao Hei grinned ear to ear as he looked at the two-star energy card in his hand. He scurried over to the energy tester, inserted the card, and when the number "523" lit up, his face scrunched into an ecstatic smile. Chen Mu paid no attention, focusing entirely on his sorting. Although some discarded intermediate cards—like three-star or four-star ones—appeared fairly often, they held no value to him. The only thing that interested him now was one-star energy cards. Three years of crafting experience have given him his own understanding of this most ordinary and basic type of card. There isn’t just one method to create a one-star energy card; Chen Mu has already collected twelve different structural variations of them. These diverse one-star energy cards have greatly inspired him, and by borrowing some techniques from them, he successfully reduced the production cost of a one-star energy card to just ninety-five odies. However, such good fortune doesn’t come every day—so far, he has only managed to collect twelve. But today, luck seemed to be on his side. Looking at the one-star energy card in his hand, judging by the patterns on its surface, it was another new structural variation Chen Mu had never encountered before. He set this energy card aside and continued sifting through the pile. The sheer number of one-star energy cards was overwhelming, but Chen Mu painstakingly inspected each one without complaint. His speed was astonishing—almost as soon as his hand brushed over them, he could tell whether it was what he was looking for. All of this stemmed from his deep familiarity with one-star energy cards. This familiarity was the result of three years of uninterrupted crafting. He didn’t even need to look; just by touch, he could determine whether a card was a one-star energy card and whether its structure was one he had seen before. He knew them so well, down to every last detail. His fingers, gliding over the edges of the cards, suddenly stopped. This card...