Next, Lin Feng stepped into the local alchemy store.
The air was thick with the scent of crushed leaves and dried roots. Shelves lined with glowing bottles and bundles of herbs reached to the ceiling—some sealed in crystal jars, others hung to dry like spice garlands. Cultivators moved through the aisles—some in faded sect robes, others in plain merchant wear.
He approached the counter and handed a handwritten list to the young girl in blue behind it.
She scanned the list, her brows drawing together.
"These three are common enough," she said, then paused. "But... Silversoul Leaf? That's rare. We don't have it."
"Can you get it?" Lin Feng asked, voice calm.
The girl blinked, then suddenly turned, brushing aside a beaded curtain to her right and vanishing through a wooden door tucked just behind the counter's edge.
As she moved, a pendant at her neck—a carved jade piece strung on a silver chain—glowed faintly with spiritual light, as if echoing a slumbering will deep within. It stirred, just once, when she neared him.
Lin Feng's brows twitched slightly—but the glow faded as the girl disappeared upstairs.
---
Beyond the counter, upstairs, the air thickened with incense and herb dust.
A copper brazier hissed softly, releasing pale tendrils of smoke. Shelves groaned under jars, dried petals, and strange roots.
At the back, a plump man lounged behind a cluttered table. A half-finished cup of wine sat beside him, and a glossy magazine lay open across his lap. One hand flipped the pages idly while he chuckled to himself.
"Mmm... now that looks like a proper dual cultivation stance..." he murmured.
The stairs creaked. Xiao Yue hurried in, breathing a little hard from the climb, one hand pressed to her waist. Her silver chain caught the brazier's light for a moment.
She stepped closer. "Boss."
He didn't even glance up. "What is it now?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she reached out and placed the list gently on top of his magazine.
He blinked, eyes flicking to the parchment.
A pause.
He skimmed one line. Then another.
His brow twitched. His eyes sharpened.
He reached for his wine automatically—but misjudged. His fingers bumped the rim of the cup.
The wine tipped over.
A splash of red spilled straight onto the magazine page.
He jumped back. "Tch—damn!"
Lifting the dripping magazine, he watched ink streak across the page.
The page now showed a scantily dressed female cultivator, mid-arch, with the blurred title:
"Top 10 Forbidden Dual Cultivation Positions They Don't Teach in Sects."
He sighed mournfully. Then his eyes returned to the list in front of him.
His tone dropped. "Who gave you this?"
Xiao Yue's hands moved instinctively—cupping the pendant near her chest—and her body tensed. She pointed quickly downstairs.
---
The beaded curtain parted again, and the plump man waddled down, apron stained and hands still damp from the mess upstairs.
He stopped in front of Lin Feng, eyeing him up and down.
"You the one who wrote this?" he asked, waving the now slightly wine-stained list.
"I am."
"You?" The man narrowed his eyes. "Are you an alchemist?"
"Maybe."
He barked a laugh. "You've got guts. And taste. Most alchemists these days wouldn't know how these ingredients work together."
He turned to the girl, who had followed him halfway down the steps.
"Xiao Yue, bring him upstairs," he said. "This one's worth talking to."
---
Upstairs, the scent of rare spiritual ingredients thickened. Shelves overflowed with dried petals, preserved beast tendons, crushed ores, and powdered herbs. Thin sunlight filtered through a slatted window, catching motes of dust in the air.
A chair scraped.
The shop owner returned—no longer wearing the easy grin from downstairs. He carried a squat clay jar and two worn clay cups, the glaze chipped at the edges. His robe sleeves were rolled higher now, revealing calloused wrists and faded ink stains on his fingers.
He poured the wine without asking, the movement practiced but unhurried.
"Hu Baozi," he said, offering the first cup. "Owner of this little patch of madness for the last seventeen years."
Lin Feng accepted it without drinking. Instead, he reached into his sleeve and pulled out the thin, half-worn cultivation magazine he'd taken from the rack below.
"Didn't expect to find this here."
Hu Baozi's expression twitched. His gaze flicked to the cover—Top 10 Forbidden Dual Cultivation Positions They Don't Teach in Sects. For just a moment, something unreadable passed behind his eyes.
"Ah... that one."
He gave a dry laugh and leaned toward a nearby shelf, subtly shifting a stack of scrolls—just enough to obscure the matching magazines tucked behind them.
"Bit of old history. I collected those myself when I was still chasing formulas instead of silver. Can't exactly sell them now, but I keep them around. For the right eyes."
Lin Feng slid the copy back into his robe without a word.
Hu Baozi took a sip of wine, watching him over the rim of the cup. His gaze sharpened.
"Steady hands. Quiet steps. You're not some roadside cultivator, are you?"
Lin Feng's eyes lifted, calm but edged. "Measure me or meet my fist."
From behind the counter downstairs, the girl who had brought him up let out a tiny, stifled laugh—quickly covering her mouth.
Hu Baozi raised his brows, then barked out a laugh of his own. "Hah! Sharp tongue on you. I like that."
"Well then. Let me give you the truth."
He tapped the side of his cup.
"The capital's in chaos. The princess—gravely ill. Last true-blood heir left. The King's gone half-mad trying to save her. They brought in the best alchemists from every province. None succeeded. So now... the gates are open to anyone who dares."
He set the cup down with a faint clink.
"And the reward? Spirit stones, noble rank, and..." He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping. "An ancient sword. Sealed, they say. Decorative, even. But some believe it predates the founding of this realm."
Lin Feng's gaze lowered for a breath. His fingers curled faintly around the clay cup.
"There's more," Hu Baozi added, eyes narrowing. "The King's offering marriage into the royal line."
"I'm not interested in marriage," Lin Feng said flatly.
Hu Baozi barked a laugh. "Neither am I! Those court women would drain a man's qi faster than a battle formation."
Lin Feng set the cup aside.
"Instead… I want all the herbs on that list—and a simple furnace. I'll pay for the furnace once the task is done."
Hu Baozi blinked at the herb list, then gave a slow nod. "Hmm… that Silversoul Leaf—rare stuff. We've been saving it for the next sect auction."
He paused, then grinned. "But for my new friend—" he reached over and gave Lin Feng's shoulder a friendly tap, "—by the Jade Stone in my heart, I'll make the sacrifice. And the furnace—take it as a keepsake of our first meeting."
The shop owner packed the herbs with care, slipping the small bronze furnace into the bundle. Lin Feng accepted it silently, fingers brushing the cool metal. A faint warmth lingered beneath the surface, as though the furnace itself held memories.
"I'll pay you back in full," Lin Feng said.
Hu Baozi waved a hand. "Hah! If you fail, I'll simply call it an investment in a good story."
---
By the time Lin Feng stepped out into the fading light, the streets of Greycloud were already thinning. Vendors were shuttering their stalls, the air heavy with the scent of roasted chestnuts and woodsmoke.
Today wasn't a bad day, he thought. I got what I needed… and an offer that might benefit me later, if I succeed.
His pace slowed as the morning's encounter rose unbidden in his mind—three familiar faces stepping into his path, their words dripping mockery. The quick flick of his wrist, the shallow cut drawn deliberately close to skin, the way their laughter faltered into silence. And the scarred one's final glare, a silent promise that they would return.
I half-expected them to appear again, maybe with an elder at their side… but it seems they've decided to wait. Or perhaps they realized they weren't ready to try me twice.
Either way, I had no reason to linger. There was somewhere else I needed to be—a place where answers came with a price, and every secret had its keeper.
Two streets over stood the Hall of Ledgers, its plain stone façade hiding the busiest ears in the prefecture. Officially, it was a registry for trade contracts and merchant dealings. Unofficially, it collected every rumor worth buying, kept watch on every notable name, and sold its findings to the highest bidder—some whispers even came from beyond the city walls.
Lin Feng pushed open the bronze-trimmed doors. Floating lanterns shed a soft, pulsing glow, their light brushing over shelves stacked high with ledgers and scrolls. A faint sandalwood scent curled through the air—underneath it, an almost invisible haze of charm Qi.
Behind the counter lounged a young woman in crimson robes, her expression languid, eyes glimmering with practiced allure. The embroidery on her sleeves shifted faintly with each breath. Noor.
She lifted a lacquered finger and pressed it lightly to his chest.
"You again?" Her tone was silk over steel. "How many times will you come here asking about that girl who's never spared you a glance?"
Lin Feng brushed her hand aside, voice calm. "I came for more than her."
A slow smile curved her lips. "Good. Follow me."
She turned, hips swaying in deliberate rhythm. Lin Feng walked behind her, ignoring the subtle strokes of charm Qi that slid against his senses. They passed corridor after corridor until the air thickened with the scent of ink and old parchment.
The inner archive was brighter—walls lined with scrolls, ledgers, and floating glyphs that drifted like slow-falling feathers. Lin Feng's gaze swept over them. "There's more here than last time," he murmured.
Noor reached up, plucked a scroll from a high shelf, and unfurled it. Spiritual letters shimmered across the surface—some burning bright, others fading like dying embers.
Before he could read further, she snapped the scroll shut. "Not like this," she said, her smirk playful but edged. "Our hall has rules. Worthiness comes first."
Lin Feng's eyes narrowed. "Then tell me what you want."
She leaned close, her breath warm against his cheek. "A treasure ruin will open next month in the northern forbidden grounds. Bring me one artifact—two if you're bold—and this scroll is yours."
He gave a single nod. "Fine. But if you're paying me… will it be in the way you know I want?"
Her finger traced down his chest, slow, deliberate, then up to press against his lips—holding just long enough to leave a faint tingle of charm Qi. "If yes… come tonight. Or one month later."
For a heartbeat, Lin Feng's aura flared, a thin edge of killing intent leaking into the air before he forced it back down.
"Thanks for the offer," he said coldly. "But I don't sell my soul for scrolls."
He turned to leave. Noor walked the opposite way, raising one hand behind her without looking back, finger pointed skyward.
"One month," she called. "Fail, and that girl you chase? She'll be marked. My word."
Lin Feng stepped out of the Hall of Ledgers, the weight of Noor's ultimatum lingering in his mind. The streets were quieter now, the city's clamor fading into the hush of evening. He turned toward home, his thoughts shifting from schemes and threats… to the one thing he could control—his own strength.