The next day, with no immediate business to attend to while they waited for Jian Xuan's sword to be forged, the group decided to explore the city with a more leisurely pace. Fat Pig, a connoisseur of local delicacies, led them away from the grand avenues and into the winding, narrow streets where the city's true flavor could be found. The air here was a rich tapestry of smells: sizzling meats, exotic spices, steaming noodles, and the sweet scent of baked goods.
They found a small, bustling, open-air food stall tucked into a busy intersection, its owner a cheerful old man who was expertly grilling skewers of some kind of savory, sea-monster meat over a glowing charcoal pit. The aroma was irresistible. They took a seat at a rough-hewn wooden table, and Fat Pig ordered a veritable feast, laughing and joking with the stall owner like an old friend.
For a while, there was a sense of simple, uncomplicated peace. They ate the delicious, perfectly charred meat, drank the cheap but strong local ale, and watched the vibrant river of city life flow past them. Xylia, for all her fierceness, ate with a focused intensity, clearly enjoying the novel flavors. Jian Xuan, ever the stoic, ate with a quiet dignity, but the faint, relaxed set of his shoulders showed that he too was appreciating the moment of respite. It was a small slice of normalcy in their extraordinary lives.
This peace was soon shattered. A commotion from a nearby alleyway drew their attention. An ore merchant, a middle-aged man with a worried face and dust-covered clothes, was desperately trying to maneuver his cart, laden with a few sacks of high-quality iron ore, through the crowded street. He was being blocked by a group of three young men dressed in the fiery-red robes of the Crimson Forge Sect's outer disciples.
The disciples carried themselves with an unearned arrogance, their expressions a mixture of disdain and predatory intent. The one who seemed to be their leader, a young man with a sneer permanently etched on his face, had his hand on one of the merchant's ore sacks.
"Old man, you're late with this delivery," the lead disciple said, his voice loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "The sect doesn't appreciate tardiness. This kind of poor service… it could cause a supplier to lose their contract."
The merchant's face went pale with fear. "Young Master Cultivator, please, my apologies! My ox threw a shoe a few miles out of the city. I came as fast as I could! This is the highest quality ore, I assure you!"
The disciple sneered. "Quality? Perhaps. But your reliability is in question." He patted the ore sack. "I'll tell you what. To make up for your tardiness and to ensure we don't report your poor service to the elders, you'll sell us this batch for… let's say, half price. A small penalty for your mistake."
The merchant's face crumpled in despair. "Half price? Young Master, I can't! I'd be taking a loss! I have a family to support, a child on the way! I need the money from this sale!"
"That sounds like your problem, not mine," the disciple said coldly. "Either you sell it to us for our price, or you can try selling it to someone else. Of course, by the time you find a new buyer, word might have gotten around that you're an unreliable supplier. You might find you can't sell it at all. You might find you can never do business with our Crimson Forge Sect again."
It was a blatant, shameless act of extortion. The disciples had no authority to terminate the sect's contracts, but the poor merchant didn't know that. To him, these arrogant young men in their red robes represented the will of the entire, monolithic sect, and their threat was a death sentence for his small business.
At the food stall, Xylia's hand instinctively went to her new gauntlets, a low growl rumbling in her throat. Jian Xuan's face was a mask of cold disapproval but he would generally not get involved in things like this. The world was vast with all kinds of misdeeds, he couldn't stop it all. But it was Fat Pig whose reaction was the most intense.
His cheerful, jovial demeanor had vanished, replaced by a cold, hard fury. His knuckles were white where he gripped his ale mug. He watched the scene with a burning intensity, and in his mind, he was seeing ghosts of his past. He saw the countless times he had witnessed this exact scene play out in his old life. Powerful, arrogant cultivators bullying the weak, squeezing every last drop of profit and dignity from the common folk. He saw the faces of the merchants he himself had once extorted as a bandit leader, the same look of helpless desperation now on the face of this poor ore supplier.
A deep, profound sense of shame and anger washed over him. He was no longer that person. He was now a Vice-Guild Leader of the Golden Shell, a man of power and influence. He was thankful that he and his guild had the strength to stand tall, to prevent scum like this from treating them with such contempt. Small merchants, however, were still being pushed around like this every single day.
He felt his heart, a thing he had thought long hardened by a life of crime and cynicism, ache with a genuine empathy. He looked at the merchant, at his terrified, pleading eyes and he saw a person from the very same trade that he's in now. That could be him if he didn't have power or the backing from the company. He made a decision. He turned to Li Yu, his expression grim.
"Wise Host," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I want to intervene."
Li Yu had been watching the entire scene with a quiet, observant gaze, his own thoughts unknown. He looked at Fat Pig, saw the genuine, righteous anger in his friend's eyes, and a faint, approving smile touched his lips. "Sure, you should always follow your heart" he said simply.
That was all the permission Fat Pig needed. He pushed his chair back, the legs scraping loudly on the stone street, and stood up. He was a large man, and when he was angry, his presence was formidable. He walked over to the scene, his heavy footsteps drawing the attention of the three disciples.
"Is there a problem here?" Fat Pig asked, his voice a deceptively calm, deep baritone.
The lead disciple turned, his sneer deepening as he looked at the portly, well-dressed merchant. "This is official business of the Crimson Forge Sect. It has nothing to do with you, old man. Piss off before you get hurt."
Fat Pig let out a short, humorless laugh. "Official business? Funny, you don't look like sect elders. And I happen to know the elders who handle ore procurement. I doubt they'd be happy to hear that some outer court brats are using the sect's name to shake down honest suppliers."
The disciple's face flushed with anger and a hint of fear. "Who the hell are you to question us?"
Fat Pig's smile vanished. He reached into his robe and pulled out a heavy, golden token, slamming it down on top of the ore sack. It was his token of office, engraved with the golden shell and the black crab claw.
"I am Zhu," he said, his voice now a cold, hard boom that carried a surprising amount of spiritual pressure. "Vice-Guild Leader of the Golden Shell Company. And we are a large supplier of high-grade ores to your Crimson Forge Sect. This man is a fellow merchant. And his business… is now my business."
The three disciples' faces went white. The Golden Shell Company. They had all heard the name. The new, incredibly wealthy guild that had appeared out of nowhere, the one that even their own elders were treating with respect.
The rumors said they were backed by a terrifying, unknown power. To antagonize a Vice-Guild Leader of such a company over a few sacks of ore was not just foolish; it was suicidal.
The lead disciple's arrogance evaporated like morning mist. He stammered, his eyes wide with fear. "Vice… Vice-Guild Leader Zhu! A thousand apologies! We… we were just testing the quality of the ore! Yes! Making sure it was up to the sect's standards! Everything seems to be in order! We'll be going now!"
Without another word, they practically stumbled over each other in their haste to get away, disappearing into the crowd like the cowardly dogs they were. Once a strong backing was shown, they ran. It was to be expected.
The ore merchant stared, his mouth agape, before a wave of immense relief washed over him. He turned to Fat Pig, his eyes filled with tears of gratitude. He dropped into a deep, formal bow, his forehead nearly touching the ground.
"Vice-Guild Leader Zhu! Thank you! Thank you for your grace! I… I did not know what I was going to do! I needed to sell this ore to support my family! My wife… she is with child…"
Fat Pig was moved. He remembered his bandit days, when people had bowed to him all the time. But those bows were born of fear, of terror. It was a far more satisfying feeling to have someone bow to him with such genuine, heartfelt gratitude.
He reached down and gently helped the man to his feet. "There is no need for that, my friend. We merchants must look out for one another." He looked at the ore on the cart. "This is good quality Ironheart. What was the sect paying you for it?"
The merchant told him the price. Fat Pig nodded. "I will buy this batch from you, for ten percent above that price, consider it a bit for what you had just gone through." He then took a small, heavy pouch of spirit stones from his storage ring. "And this is a deposit for your next three shipments. From now on, you can sell your ores directly to the Golden Shell Company. We will always give you a fair price."
The merchant was so overwhelmed with gratitude he could barely speak. He accepted the pouch with trembling hands.
Fat Pig then gave him a small, bronze token, engraved with the guild's flag. "This marks you as a sub-merchant of our company. If anyone gives you trouble in this city again, show them this token. They will know you have our backing."
"I… thank you, Vice-Guild Leader," the man stammered. "I will not sell to anyone else! From this day forward, all my ores belong to the Golden Shell Company!" What could be better than selling his goods to a single source and from the looks of it a source that paid well and wouldn't mistreat him
He bowed again, a deep, genuine bow of respect, before finally, with a look of immense relief, continuing on his way to make his delivery, now to the Golden Shell warehouse. A small, probably insignificant amount of ore was secured for the future. The profits would be minimal. But as Fat Pig walked back to the table, he felt a deep, profound sense of happiness, a satisfaction that filled his heart.
Li Yu watched the entire exchange from the side, a quiet, genuine smile on his face. He was happy for Fat Pig, for the growth of his character. Li Yu has never once asked any of his retainers to go against their heart, at least not yet. He was happy to see that his people were for the most part good people.
They all had their own agendas and goals but none were so far tyrants. Whether or not that was purely from the soul contract he had with each of them or not, he didn't know, but he wanted to believe it was their genuine character.
He took a slow sip of his ale, his gaze sweeping over the vibrant, chaotic city. He thought of his own immense, growing power. It was easy, he realized, to get lost in the pursuit of strength, to see the world as nothing more than a series of challenges and obstacles on the path of cultivation.
To view others that were weaker than oneself as mere ants.
But little, day-to-day events like this… enjoying the food, talking with friends, pushing towards one's goals, this was what made the journey worthwhile. This was what gave the power meaning. If you had all the strength in the world but were trapped in a single place, cultivating all day long, what was the point?
He made a silent reminder to himself, a small, important promise. Remember to enjoy the world. Remember to enjoy the journey. Remember to live your life.