Kaelen felt the shift in the market's atmosphere before he saw it. It was a subtle thing, a change in the chaotic rhythm of the crowd. The ambient psychic noise—the blend of greed, boredom, and minor desperation that permeated the marketplace—had a new, sharp note of authority cutting through it. He had just secured the inkstone deep within an inner pocket of his jacket and was turning to leave the stall when the two men entered the narrow alley.
He didn't need the System to analyze them. His own senses, even in this weakened mortal form, screamed warnings. The younger man, Dante Valerius, was a peacock, his power entirely derived from the wealth and status his tailored suit projected. He moved with the lazy, entitled arrogance of a predator that had never known a real challenge.
It was the older man, Elias, who was the true, if minor, threat. He walked a half-step behind his master, his posture one of perfect subservience, but his eyes were a different story. They were sharp, disciplined, and held a cold, predatory light. Kaelen recognized the look instantly; it was the look of a trained guard dog, loyal to its master and hostile to all others. And from him, there was a faint but unmistakable aura of spiritual energy. It was a weak, muddy, and poorly refined energy, barely at the first stage of the Qi Sensing realm, but it set him apart from the mortals around them like a candle in a dark room.
Kaelen kept his body angled away, presenting the image of a student about to depart, but he watched their approach from the corner of his eye. They were not browsing. They were searching. Elias's gaze swept methodically across the stalls, dismissing the worthless junk with the practiced eye of someone looking for a very specific type of treasure.
Then, Elias's gaze passed over Kaelen. For a fraction of a second, it continued on, but then it snapped back with the force of a physical recoil. The old man froze, his eyes narrowing, his focus locking onto the pocket of Kaelen's jacket where the inkstone now rested.
Kaelen understood immediately. Elias couldn't possibly know what the inkstone was, but as a cultivator, however weak, he could sense the faint, residual energy signature it now emitted. Kaelen's own [Deep Scan] had been like striking a dormant bell; it had awakened a tiny fraction of the stone's power, causing it to hum at a frequency that was invisible to mortals but a shining beacon to anyone with spiritual sense.
Elias leaned in and whispered urgently into his young master's ear. Dante's bored expression sharpened into one of acquisitive interest. His eyes, which had been skimming over the commoners with disdain, now fixed on Kaelen with the focused intensity of a hawk spotting a field mouse.
They changed course, walking directly towards him.
Kaelen did not move. He did not show any sign that he had noticed them. He remained in his role: Kaelen Vance, a poor student who had just spent his lunch money on a strange rock. He feigned one last look at the vendor's wares before turning to leave, a maneuver that would place him directly in their path.
As predicted, they intercepted him. Dante stepped in front of him, blocking his way, while Elias subtly moved to his side, cutting off any retreat.
"A moment of your time," Dante said. His voice was smooth and cultured, but it held an undercurrent of command, the tone of a man who was not used to being refused. He looked down his nose at Kaelen's worn clothes, his expression a mixture of contempt and mild curiosity.
"Can I help you?" Kaelen asked, his voice deliberately pitched to sound slightly nervous, his eyes avoiding direct contact.
"That stone you just purchased," Dante said, gesturing vaguely at Kaelen's jacket pocket. "My family has an interest in collecting... unique geological artifacts. I'll give you one thousand dollars for it. A fine profit for a peasant like you, I should think."
A thousand dollars. To the boy Kaelen Vance, that sum would have been a life-changing miracle. It would have paid off his most pressing debts, bought him food for months, and eased the crushing weight of his existence. The old Kaelen would have accepted the offer with tears of gratitude.
But Kaelen was not that boy. His mind, which had calculated the value of celestial treasures worth entire star systems, processed the offer with cold, disdainful amusement. They were offering a handful of sand for a mountain of divine gold. Their ignorance was profound.
He also saw the offer for what it was: a test. They didn't know what the stone was, but they knew it was special. They wanted to see if he knew it was special. If he haggled, if he showed too much interest, he would confirm their suspicions.
So he chose the one response they would not expect from a "peasant."
He looked up, meeting Dante's arrogant gaze for the first time, and gave a small, almost pitying smile.
"It is not for sale," he said simply.
The words, spoken calmly and without any trace of fear or deference, hung in the air. Dante's confident smirk faltered. He blinked, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. He had expected begging, or fawning gratitude, or at the very least, a clumsy attempt to haggle for more. This simple, absolute refusal was not part of his script.
"I don't think you understand," Dante said, his voice losing some of its smoothness, replaced by a harder, more threatening edge. "I wasn't asking." He took a small step closer, invading Kaelen's personal space. "Some things are not meant for your kind to possess. It is a matter of principle. Name your price."
"I believe I was clear," Kaelen replied, his own voice remaining steady. He did not back away. "The stone is not for sale. At any price. Now, if you'll excuse me, you are blocking my path."
This was too much. The public defiance, the utter lack of respect from this worthless street rat, was an intolerable insult to Dante's ego. His handsome face darkened, flushing with anger.
"Insolent trash," he hissed.
He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod to his attendant. Elias understood the signal instantly. He took a half-step forward, his entire demeanor changing. The subservient attendant vanished, replaced by a dangerous enforcer. He focused his will and released his spiritual pressure.
It was a classic intimidation tactic used by low-level cultivators against mortals. The focused release of spiritual energy would press down on a normal person's senses, making the air feel heavy, making it hard to breathe, inducing a state of primal fear and submission. Against a terrified, malnourished student, it should have been devastating. He expected Kaelen to collapse to his knees, choking and gasping for air.
The wave of pathetic, muddy energy washed over Kaelen.
And absolutely nothing happened.
To Kaelen, whose soul had withstood the gravitational pull of nascent black holes and the psychic pressures of cosmic entities, this display was less than a summer breeze. It was like a child trying to knock down a mountain with a thrown pebble. He didn't even flinch. He didn't even acknowledge it.
He simply looked past the stunned Dante, his gaze settling on Elias. His eyes, which had been affecting the timid look of a student, now shifted. The golden light, the ancient, cold fire he had used on Marco and Pike, swirled in their depths once more.
He didn't need to speak. His gaze said everything. It spoke of contempt. It spoke of a power so vast that Elias's pathetic display was an object of pity. It spoke of a predator looking at a noisy insect that had foolishly landed in its path.
Elias stumbled back as if he had been physically struck. His own spiritual energy recoiled, his face going pale with a sudden, inexplicable terror. He had never in his life encountered a gaze like that. It was a pressure far beyond the simple spiritual force he understood. It was a pressure on the soul itself.
"An insect," Kaelen said softly, his voice a low, cold whisper that cut through the noise of the market, meant only for them. "Trying to shake a mountain."
He then did the most insulting thing possible. He turned his back on them completely and walked away, a calm, unhurried pace, as if their confrontation had been nothing more than a momentary, tedious distraction.
For a few seconds, Dante and Elias were frozen in stunned silence, unable to process what had just happened. Their proven methods of intimidation had failed spectacularly. The boy who should have been groveling at their feet had dismissed them as if they were nothing.
The public nature of it all was the final catalyst. A few nearby shoppers had noticed the confrontation and were now staring with open curiosity. Dante's face, which had been pale with confusion, now turned a deep, blotchy purple with unrestrained, public humiliation.
His rage exploded.
"You dare walk away from me?" he snarled, his voice a low, vicious growl. The arrogant young master was gone, replaced by a spoiled child throwing a tantrum. He looked at his still-shaken attendant, his eyes burning with fury.
"Find out who that trash is," he hissed, his voice trembling with anger. "Find out where he lives. And get me that stone. I don't care what you have to do."