Chen Huang's feet now stood upon the streets of Shanghai City, a center of civilization pulsing with life. Compared to the silence of Greenleaf Village, this place was an unending storm. Crowds surged endlessly, forming rivers of bodies that never ceased to flow.
Shouts from merchants blended with cheerful laughter in the air. The sharp scent of spices collided with the sweet smoke of incense. Commerce thrived at every corner—people hurried past, trading gold for necessities, or simply indulging in the intoxicating chaos of the city.
Pang Bo, ever focused, wasted no time. He cast a brief glance at Chen Huang and the two women beside him.
"I'll go look for something. You three can wander around."
With that short statement, Pang Bo disappeared into the labyrinth of the crowd, his steps swift and efficient.
Now, Chen Huang was left with the two beautiful women—Xin Li on his left and Yun Yuan on his right. The three of them moved together, forming a striking contrast amid the bustling streets.
Xin Li walked with gentle elegance, her black robe swaying in rhythm with her steps. As she moved, her hips naturally swayed ever so slightly, an unintentional charm born from each stride. Yun Yuan, by contrast, carried herself with upright dignity, every step measured and precise, reflecting the discipline of a sect genius.
They strolled casually, their eyes sweeping over the vendors' stalls, searching for spiritual items or medicinal herbs they might need.
Suddenly, Yun Yuan stopped.
Her sharp eyes fixed on an unremarkable, shabby stall.
"Xin Li, isn't that… a treasure?"
She pointed toward an indifferent old vendor who had spread his goods atop a worn-out mat. The displayed items looked like nothing more than junk—piles of broken stones, rusted metal scraps, and several dried herbs that had long since lost their potency.
Yet Chen Huang's eyes were not deceived by appearances.
From a distance, he carefully examined the items.
His mind rapidly sifted through countless objects he had studied before. Correct. He could tell immediately—among that seemingly useless pile were three valuable treasures, objects emitting faint, concealed Dou Qi, though the vendor himself was completely unaware of it.
"There are a few good items over there," Chen Huang said to the two women beside him, a hint of surprise in his voice—he hadn't expected Yun Yuan's instincts to be so sharp. "Do you want to buy them?"
They approached the stall at once. The old vendor showed little interest in their arrival, remaining focused on cleaning an old object in his hands with a tattered cloth.
Yun Yuan, her presence commanding attention, spoke first.
"Merchant. These three items—how much?"
She pointed directly at the three treasures Chen Huang had identified.
The vendor slowly lifted his cloudy gaze. Stroking his thin white beard, he pondered briefly before replying,
"Ten Fahl."
Nearby merchants began whispering among themselves, their voices low yet filled with mockery.
"Outright robbery."
"Just trash, sold at such a price."
"They're really unlucky."
Chen Huang pressed his fingers to his forehead. The reactions confirmed his suspicion—ten Fahl was an absurd price for junk. One Fahl was worth a hundred Yahl. He knew he couldn't afford it; ten Fahl was far beyond his means as someone just starting his journey.
Yet Yun Yuan showed not the slightest hesitation.
She reached to her waist and produced a heavy pouch of silver coins. The coins gleamed brilliantly, each engraved with a perfect circular emblem. Without even verifying the items' authenticity, she counted out ten Fahl.
"We'll take them," she said firmly, her tone final as she handed over the coins.
Xin Li merely smiled gently—a smile born of familiarity. She was used to Yun Yuan's extravagance, especially when it came to things believed to be treasures.
They continued on their way, leaving the stall behind. In such a bustling city, every step revealed a new scene. Walking leisurely, time seemed to pass faster as they were swept up in the crowd.
The sky's colors gradually shifted—from sunset orange to deep blue threaded with stars. Night had fallen.
"It's already night, but Brother Pang still hasn't returned," Xin Li said softly, rubbing her arm. Worry was evident on her face, shadows beneath her eyes betraying her unease.
"What exactly is he looking for?" Chen Huang asked, his gaze sharp as it turned toward the maze of darkened alleys swallowed by night.
Yun Yuan stepped closer and gently placed a hand on Xin Li's shoulder—an unusual gesture for her, revealing her own concern.
"It's fine, Xin Li. Senior Pang is strong. He'll be alright."
Chen Huang remained silent. The question lingered in the cold night air. A sense of unease crept into his heart—a whisper of danger honed by cultivation instinct. He looked up at the beautiful night sky, a canvas of cold, glittering stars.
What is really going on? he wondered.
That night, Shanghai City dimmed into a collection of glittering jewels beneath the dark heavens. Within a lively inn, Xin Li and Yun Yuan finally rested—without Pang Bo. Anxiety gnawed at Xin Li's heart despite Yun Yuan's attempts to reassure her. Pang Bo's absence hung thick in the air, like an unyielding fog.
While the two women were trapped in their spiral of worry, Chen Huang had chosen a higher altar.
He stood upon the inn's rooftop.
Up there, the city's clamor faded into distant murmurs, leaving Chen Huang alone beneath the vast, star-strewn sky.
He sat in a perfect lotus position, his back straight, like a pillar bridging heaven and earth. His eyes were tightly closed, his focus absolute as it turned inward.
The cold night air around him slowly warmed, illuminated by a faint aura. His pure silver Dou Qi circulated around his body, forming a rising vortex, like morning mist bathed in moonlight.
His goal tonight was fundamental mastery: condensing his essential energy into physical form.
Slowly, with extraordinary inner control, he drew a portion of the silver Dou Qi from the vortex and focused it into the space before him.
The Dou Qi gathered, compressed, and—like a sculptor's careful hand—began to take shape.
A sword.
This was the Dou Qi Sword, a foundational technique commonly practiced by cultivators of the Dou Zhi Qi and Dou Zhe realms—the first trial in transforming invisible energy into a tangible weapon.
Chen Huang had tried countless times.
His brow furrowed as he endured the mental strain required to maintain the fragile energy form. He managed to shape the hilt, the blade, even the sharp tip.
Yet at the final step—when all the Dou Qi should have fused and hardened into a solid whole—the sword always failed. The energy rebounded, shattering into fragments of silver light that burst softly before dissolving back into the night air.
"Damn it!"
Cold frustration crept in. He drew a deep breath, releasing the tension from his shoulders.
Suddenly, Yue Chan's voice—soft as wind over a snowy plain—touched his consciousness.
"No need to rush. Shape it slowly."
Chen Huang nodded inwardly and followed her guidance. His concentration deepened tenfold. He allowed each particle of Dou Qi to integrate with the next, like a master craftsman weaving the finest metal threads.
The sword began to form again—slower, steadier.
Silver light condensed.
This time, the Dou Qi Sword held its shape, radiating a cold glow in the heart of the night.
That night was spent in silent repetition—each failure followed by reabsorption, each small success accompanied by the gentle whisper of flowing energy.