As soon as Wuji stepped into town, he scanned the crowded street for the gambler and his companions. But he could only see carts rattling by hawkers shouting their wares, and people hurried in every direction.
"Did they go deeper into town?" he wondered, slipping into the flow of foot traffic. "There's no way I can spot them in this mess, but that also works in my favor."
He glanced to his right. Vendors stood shoulder to shoulder under patched awnings, and smoke and steam curled from their stalls.
The scent of fried dumplings mingled with spiced tea, sweat, and something riper; horse dung.
"Damn it! Who's leaving horse shit baking in the sun?" he muttered, wrinkling his nose. It brought back a memory he didn't like.
His stomach growled as he eyed a tray of plump dumplings. "Should I grab some for Meiyin?" But then his expression darkened. "No, first I'll deal with those three bastards, but after I buy the herbs for her treatment."
He then felt eyes on his back. He stopped and half-turned.
Behind him, a thin man leaned over a candy stall, pretending to inspect sugar sticks like a starving child.
Wuji's gaze narrowed. "Really? Is that your master plan for staying hidden, what might he be tailing me for can't he see how poor I look, or did the gambler sent him, No the gambler doesn't have that kind of power, even the two following him might be in it for my gold coins."
He looked around casually. A clothing shop stood just a few paces ahead. "Good. It's crowded enough to lose him," he thought, looking back. The guy was still at the candy stall, but kept glancing toward Wuji.
"I can't afford to make enemies with these gangs." Without hesitating, Wuji ducked inside.
Cool air and the scent of dyed fabric greeted him. Lanterns flickered on the wooden walls, casting soft glows across shelves of folded robes and hanging garments. The shop buzzed with the voices of haggling of customers bartering over shirts and robes.
"Business is better than the last time Yin Li came here," he thought, slipping between two customers. He kept his head low, letting the crowd swallow him whole.
"Let's see how long it takes the rat outside to realize his target just vanished."
He browsed slowly, his fingers brushing the clothes. After a few minutes, he picked out a black robe and walked to the counter.
"How much is this?" he asked.
The woman behind the counter glanced up. "Ten copper coins."
"That's a bit much," Wuji said casually. "What's your best offer?"
"Nine," she said flatly, returning to fold another robe.
He pressed a little harder and haggled with her for several more minutes, but she wouldn't budge.
"Stubborn," he thought, then glanced toward the door. "He's probably gone by now."
Without another word, he placed the robe on the counter and left the shop, empty-handed, anyway he wanted to pass the time.
Outside, he glanced around; the man disappeared or maybe he found another target Wuji didn't care as long as their eyes were not on him.
He walked straight down the street, his steps focused and his eyes constantly looking around if another person might follow him.
Several minutes later, after weaving through the crowd, he arrived at a modest herb shop tucked between a pottery stall and wine vendors.
He stepped inside and approached the counter directly. The scent of dried leaves and roots hit him immediately; pungent, earthy, and grounding.
"Give me the herbs that martial artists use after training," he said. "And something for bruises."
"And don't act like that wench from the village shop," he thought, jaw tight.
An old man with long gray eyebrows and fingers stained with green residue stood behind the counter.
He looked Wuji up and down briefly, then silently turned to the shelves behind him. With practiced speed, he plucked several bundles and roots, laying them out on the counter.
"These three," he said, pointing to the bundles, "help with bruising and inflammation. Boil them into a paste and apply while warm."
He tapped another set of herbs. "These aid recovery after intense training. Their effect depends on how you use them. This one,"—he held up a dark, coiled root—"can double your growth rate for two days if taken while practicing a martial technique like the bone-breaking fist technique."
"Double the training efficiency; how much is this herb?" Wuji asked. "There is no way a herb with properties like this can exist in such a rural town and even if it does, it should be expensive."
"The herb is going for three gold coins each stalk," the old man said.
"Three gold coins! That can feed a family for two months; why is it so expensive?" Wuji asked.
Wuji's eyes narrowed as he remembered. "You said bone-Breaking Fist can double the practicing speed; is it just this technique only or are other techniques able to do it?,"
"Only the bone-breaking fist technique matches well with my herbs and also my ancestral martial art technique, but I wonder why you ask," he asked looking at him closely.
"Where can I learn that technique? Is it for sale?"
The old man let out a dry chuckle. "That technique was just an example, young man. It's not something you'll find lying around. Not in this backwater town."
"I need martial techniques," Wuji said flatly. "I can see that you want to sell it to me, say the price?"
The old man's eyes lingered on Wuji's face a little longer this time. Behind the withered skin and cheap robe, he saw something else: fire, hunger, and desperation. A storm in human form.
"This kid is desperate," he thought. "I do have that old martial arts technique from my ancestors gathering dust. But first, let's see how deep his pockets run."
"Young man the Bone-Breaking Fist isn't just any technique," the old man said, his eyes narrowing. "It's one of the rare technique that can bring someone to the threshold of becoming a first-rate martial artist."
Wuji leaned in slightly. "How much are you selling it for?"
The old man looked smugly. Then he coughed and said slowly, "Well, I don't have the original technique."
Wuji's face darkened. "Then why waste my time talking about it?"
The old man raised both hands in mock innocence. "Don't be so hasty, young man. I do have something; a derivative form. It's a simplified version that was passed down through less...prestigious channels."
"And what exactly makes it worth buying over other techniques?" Wuji asked.
The old man smiled as if expecting the question. "This version was preserved for over three centuries. It's not as powerful as the original, of course, but paired with the right herbs—my herbs—it can elevate you to third-rate in two weeks. Maybe less if you can stomach the pain."
Wuji raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying it only works if I buy your herbs, too?"
The old man didn't even blink. "Correct. The body needs fuel, and the technique needs support. Without the herbs, you'll burn out before you build anything."
Wuji crossed his arms. "Sounds convenient for you."
The old man chuckled. "Convenience is the luxury of the prepared. I'm offering you a shortcut—dangerous, but real."
Wuji stared at him for a long moment. "And the original? Where can one find it?"
The old man's smile faded slightly. "In Heigu Kingdom. People claim the full version is locked away in Heigu Kingdom. They say it can elevate a practitioner beyond the first-rate realm and perhaps even reach the master martial artist realm."
Wuji nodded slightly. "I'll keep that in mind. But how sure are you that I can really reach the Third rate with your technique? And don't lie—I have zero talent for martial arts."
The old man chuckled, entirely unbothered. "Talent? If you had talent, you wouldn't be in this dusty little shop. You'd be in one of those martial arts sects, looking down on the rest of us."
"Martial arts sects, huh..." Wuji's eyes dimmed slightly. He recalled that Yin Li tried to join martial sects, but they turned him away because he didn't have enough silver to "register properly."
The old man leaned closer and tapped the wooden counter with a knuckle. "But effort? Discipline? That still counts for something. If you train harder than the others, eat right, follow the technique to the letter, and take the right herbs, then maybe in a month you'll be third-rate. Maybe sooner."
"A month..." Wuji considered. "If I push myself with cellular regeneration, I might cut that time in half and, of course, everything with this guy leads back to his herbs."
He spoke plainly. "All right. What's this miracle package cost?"
The old man grinned, his eyes gleaming like a fox who had found a henhouse. "Oh, not much. Three hundred gold coins."
Silence fell like frost.
"...Three hundred?" Wuji repeated.
"It comes with the full technique, one month's worth of herbs matched to each training stage, and some secret advice from me," he said, patting his chest.
Wuji clicked his tongue. "You're not selling martial arts. You're selling fairy tales at auction."
The old man just kept smiling.
Wuji exhaled. "Fine. What if I just want the technique?"
The old man tapped his chin, pretending to think. "Just the manual? A hundred gold coins."
Silence.
Wuji narrowed his eyes. "Do I look like I shit silver, old man? Tell me the actual price. I might be desperate, but I'm not stupid."
The shopkeeper let out a wheezing laugh. "All right, all right. You're a tough one. For you, I'll cut it down to eighty."
Wuji stared at him. Then he spoke calmly. "Twenty gold coins."
The air seemed to freeze.
"Twenty?" the old man echoed, blinking as if Wuji had just spat on his ancestors.
"That's all I have, and it's only for the technique," Wuji said flatly. "
The old man's face twitched. "You call that a negotiation? That's robbery."
"No, what you're doing is robbery. I'm just poor."
"Okay, seventy gold coins, no less," the old man said.
"Thirty coins," Wuji said.
"Okay, sixty-five. That is my bottom line."
"How about thirty-five gold coins, plus information?" Wuji said.
The old man squinted. "What kind of information? You better not waste my time with town gossip—"
"Information on cultivators."
The room changed.
The shopkeeper slowly straightened, the smile draining from his face.
"You're playing with fire, boy. Get out."
Wuji didn't flinch.
"Relax. This isn't about challenging them. It's an opportunity. It could be worth far more than your dried weeds."
The old man's eyes narrowed. "I'm too old to cross lines I can't uncross. Go wave your secrets at someone younger."
Wuji studied him. Is he acting, or is he actually scared?
"This opportunity is for your family," Wuji said calmly. "You have children, don't you?" "What if one of them has a spirit root? Your entire bloodline's status could rise overnight. People will remember your name for generations. You could even receive a title from the kingdom. Maybe you could form your own kingdom."
The old man scoffed. Wuji didn't let up.
"And if you're afraid, fine. Sell the information. You'll make more gold in a day than you have in your entire life."
"Then why not sell it yourself?" the old man said, narrowing his eyes. "Looks like you need the money more than I do."
"I'm trying," Wuji said flatly. "But people like me don't get audiences. They see my face and walk away. You, though? You've got the shop. You possess the connections. The trust."
The old man folded his arms and studied Wuji.
"If I gamble on his words, we'll either win big or I'll lose what little I have. Should one of my grandchildren have a spirit root, this will mark a turning point. If not..." He exhaled slowly. "We'll go back to scraping by. Assuming no cultivator accuses me of crossing the line..."
He looked Wuji up and down again. "He's desperate but sharp. If he's lying, it's a bold move. Too bold for a beggar. And if he's telling the truth..."
Wuji stayed silent. He knew the greed would win. He just had to let it bloom.
Finally, the old man mumbled, "If this works, my ancestors will call me a genius. If we fail, I will take it as a natural disaster that happened to our family."
He sighed and tapped the counter. "Fine. Thirty-five gold coins and the technique information. But there will be no refund if you die trying to use it."
Wuji pulled the coins from his pouch and dropped them on the counter.
"Deal."