Cultivation begins in Qingfeng Market.

"Fellow Daoist, how much is this Spirit-Guiding Herb?"

Lin Zhao stopped in front of a stall and asked a question. He had delicate features and a clear voice.

The stall owner was a middle-aged cultivator with a dark complexion, who was resting with his eyes half-closed. He opened his eyelids a crack, and his gaze first fell on Lin Zhao's robes.

Although the boy's clothes were simple, the surface of the light blue cloth was woven with extremely fine silver threads in the shape of cloud patterns, which shimmered like water when the sunlight shone on them.

His breathing was steady and long, indicating he was at the third level of Qi Refining. He was only fifteen or sixteen years old, yet he wore a low-grade Dharma robe.

fat sheep.

He made up his mind, but his face remained lazy, not even bothering to sit up straight: "Seventy spirit fragments, no bargaining."

Lin Zhao didn't reply. He crouched down, and as his fingertips touched the blade of grass, a wisp of pale green spiritual energy quietly emerged—this was the "Spirit Detection Technique," the most basic herb identification technique, often used by rogue cultivators to determine medicinal properties.

His spiritual energy stagnated after traveling half an inch through the spiritual herb, and he withdrew his hand.

"Five years." He put the grass back where it belonged, straightened up, and said, "To refine the Spirit-Guiding Pill, at least ten years of medicinal power is needed. Thirty fragments of spirit energy."

The stall owner finally sat up straight.

He stared at the boy for a few moments, then grinned. "Fellow Daoist is an expert." He pointed to the other two plants. "The market price is fifty spirit fragments per plant. Three plants for a package deal, one hundred and forty, how about it?"

He pointed to two other spiritual herbs on the stall that were of similar quality.

A hint of helplessness appeared on Lin Zhao's delicate face as she slowly shook her head: "That's the price for planting in spirit fields. Fellow Daoist, was this batch of goods something the demon-hunting team picked on a whim?"

"The 'Jade Lock Spirit Technique' wasn't used during harvesting, nor were any gold tools used to cut them; they were simply torn apart by hand. Judging by the rate at which the spiritual energy dissipates, the medicinal effect will be reduced to less than one-tenth in five days at most. By then, even ten fragments of spiritual energy might not be worth anything."

He paused, then looked up again, "Of course, if you have a Spirit Sealing Box to preserve it, then disregard what I said."

The stall owner's lips twitched.

A spirit-sealing box? The cheapest one costs at least ten low-grade spirit stones. Who would use it on such a low-level spirit herb?

He knew in his heart that he had encountered someone knowledgeable, but he put on a smile: "Fellow Daoist, you have misjudged. This is a legitimate source from the 'Heavenly Wind Demon Hunting Team,' exclusively supplied to Danxia Pavilion."

He lowered his voice, feigning mystery, "However, seeing your sincerity, fellow Daoist, let's consider this a good deed—one low-grade spirit stone for all three plants, how about it?"

A look of bewilderment, as if she were both laughing and crying, appeared on Lin Zhao's face.

"Fellow Daoist is joking." His voice was cold. "It is true that one low-grade spirit stone can be exchanged for a hundred spirit fragments, but a hundred spirit fragments cannot be exchanged for one spirit stone."

Spirit stones can power arrays, provide energy for alchemy furnaces, be used for drawing talismans and refining artifacts, and can even be directly absorbed for cultivation. What about broken spirit stones? They're merely scraps from spirit stone mines. Aside from filling the most basic warning and lighting arrays, what use are they in any of the myriad arts of cultivation?

He spoke slowly and deliberately, yet each word was clear: "I would hesitate to exchange two hundred spirit fragments for one spirit stone. You, fellow Daoist, actually intend to exchange three low-grade first-rank spirit herbs with insufficient medicinal power for one spirit stone from me?"

After saying that, he turned and left.

One step, two steps. The water in the cracks of the bluestone slabs was pushed open by the soles of the boots, splashing up tiny droplets.

"Hey! Young friend, wait a moment!" the stall owner called out urgently. "Forty-five spirit fragments! This is a first-tier spirit herb after all, this is my bottom price!"

Lin Zhao kept walking.

"Thirty," he replied with only two words.

"You—" The stall owner seemed to be in pain, but before he could finish speaking, a furious shout suddenly erupted from the south:

"This is outrageous!"

The sound, imbued with spiritual energy, spread outwards.

Everyone's eyes turned to the south.

Lin Zhao turned to the side and said to the stall owner, "There's something interesting going on up ahead. Please go ahead and get busy, senior."

He walked toward the source of the sound, his steps unhurried, silently counting in his mind.

one two three.

"Young friend, wait a moment!" The stall owner's voice came from behind, laced with the bitterness of someone tearing their own flesh. "Forty spirit fragments! Take it if you want, otherwise forget it!"

Lin Zhao stopped and turned around.

The morning light slanted down from the side, casting a half-light, half-shadow on his handsome face. His eyes were clear, and a hint of understanding flashed in them.

"One price," he said. "One hundred spirit fragments, I'll take all three."

The stall owner stared at him for three breaths, then finally sighed heavily and waved his hand: "Never mind, never mind, let's make a good connection. Take it, take it."

Lin Zhao walked back to the stall and poured out fragments of spirit energy from the gray storage bag at his waist. A hundred fragments of spirit energy, each with a faint, firefly-like glow, were piled into a small mound on the coarse linen. He carefully put the three spirit-guiding herbs into the bag, then cupped his hands in thanks: "Thank you, fellow Daoist."

As he turned around, a very faint smile appeared on his face.

He cupped his hands in greeting, then turned and strode quickly toward the noisy area to the south.

As the stall owner watched the boy's figure disappear into the crowd, he swept the broken spirit into his arms and muttered, "Level three Qi Refining, complete with magic robes and storage bag... He must be a member of some family, definitely not an ordinary rogue cultivator."

He shook his head helplessly, his wrinkles deepening. "Young people these days are all so shrewd. Making a living by reselling the monster-hunting team's miscellaneous goods is becoming increasingly difficult."

Does this mean I'll really have to join a demon-hunting team and risk my life in the future?

Thinking of the astonishing casualty rate of the demon-hunting team, he immediately shuddered and suppressed the thought.

He put on a smile again and tried to attract the next customer.

In the southern corner of the market square, a crowd of thirty or forty people had gathered. Most of them were early-stage Qi Refining cultivators, while a few well-dressed mid-stage cultivators stood on the periphery, observing coldly.

In the center of the crowd, the two faced off.

The old man was thin and frail, wrapped in a dusty old Taoist robe with oil stains on the cuffs.

His face was pressed tightly against his cheekbones, his eyes were sunken, and his gaze was as murky as still water. Opposite him was a richly dressed young man, wearing a white brocade robe and a jade belt around his waist, his face flushed red, and his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

The boy's spiritual energy fluctuated, and his clothes moved without wind.

Lin Zhao squeezed to the edge of the crowd, his gaze sweeping across the room before settling on a young man in black on his left.

The man was tall and imposing, a head taller than those around him. A shallow scar ran from his cheekbone to his chin on his left cheek. He stood with his arms crossed, like an iron tower.

"Brother Gao," Lin Zhao lowered his voice and leaned closer to ask, "What's going on between these two? The atmosphere is so tense."

Gao Yuan turned his head and saw it was him. His tense expression relaxed slightly: "Brother Lin, it's been a long time."

He gestured with his chin toward the market, "That old man with the shady stall is ripping people off again. And that kid in white, I heard he's from a marquis's mansion in the Great Yun Dynasty. He made quite a show of himself when he entered the market before."

A lean young man leaned over and spat, "What young master of a marquis's mansion? He's just an abandoned son of the Yongping Marquis of Dayun! He stole his family's spirit stones and ran away. He's just putting on airs."

Gao Yuan didn't respond to that, and continued to whisper to Lin Zhao, "Old Yin sold him a set of mother-and-child blades in exchange for fifty low-grade spirit stones."

"One-Blade or..." Lin Zhao asked.

Gao Yuan nodded, confirming, "The Five-Sword Blade."

Lin Zhao's pupils contracted slightly.

The mother-and-child blade is an unorthodox magical artifact.

The mother blade controls the overall strategy, while the child blades deliver the final blow. Qi Refining stage cultivators often use one or three child blades.

The Five-Sword Blade is a high-grade magic weapon. It requires the user to simultaneously control five different paths, and only those with at least the seventh level of Qi Refining and strong spiritual sense can barely wield it.