The market town served the city's low-tier cultivators, a sprawling bazaar where they could trade for the necessities of their practice. Pills, formations, and spiritual artifacts of all kinds could be found here, though the quality was often dubious and the standards mixed. With the year's end approaching, the market was a chaotic throng of cultivators. The air hummed with their haggling and the constant shuffle of feet on dusty ground. Yue Fan made a beeline for a small stall at the end of the street. The owner, an elder surnamed Sun, was known simply as Old Sun to his regulars. His son was a minor manager at the prestigious Thousand Jade Pavilion and would occasionally pass along defective goods the emporium couldn't sell, which Old Sun then offered here at a steep discount. Old Sun was hawking his wares when he looked up and saw Yue Fan running toward him, panting for breath, his fair face flushed. The old man couldn’t help but tease him. “Well now, little friend. Here to look at spiritual artifacts again? You’re not just going to browse like last time, are you?” Yue Fan waved a small, decisive hand. “I’m buying!” Old Sun’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Isn’t the New Year still a few days off? Did your family give you your holiday money early?” “It’s not holiday money,” Yue Fan said, a little indignantly. “I earned this myself!” He patted the pouch at his waist. Hearing the crisp clink of spirit stones, Old Sun’s demeanor brightened instantly. “Pills, formations, artifacts, I have it all!” he chirped, his sales pitch rolling off his tongue. “High quality, low prices, no tricks for young or old! Every item comes from the Thousand Jade Pavilion’s stock—excellent quality guaranteed. What is the young friend looking for today?” If the items were truly excellent, they would have been sold at Thousand Jade Pavilion, not here. But Yue Fan didn’t care. He couldn't afford their prices anyway. “Do you have any fire-resistant spiritual artifacts?” A knowing look crossed Old Sun’s face. He pulled out a burlap bag and unfurled it on the stall’s surface before Yue Fan. “You asked about them before, little friend, so I kept an eye out. I went back and found a few just for you. All top-notch fire-resistant artifacts, easy to carry, and beautifully styled. What do you think?” Yue Fan looked at the man with a flicker of surprise. Old Sun had truly earned his decades of experience in the market, ready to spring on the slightest hint of an opportunity. A varied collection of spiritual artifacts lay before him: rings, jade pendants, lanterns, even a net and a scarf. It was the most complete selection in the entire market town. After a careful inspection, Yue Fan picked up a hairpin. Its style was simple, almost rustic, but it possessed an understated elegance. “What kind of hairpin is this?” “That’s a Fire-Resistant Hairpin,” Old Sun explained. “It’s a standard-issue spiritual weapon. The materials and craftsmanship all follow a uniform design, and it’s engraved with a primary fire-resistance formation. It’s powered by a spirit stone. Once activated, the formation isolates you from heat, keeping you cool and comfortable. It consumes spirit stones, yes, but a single stone will last three months. Very economical, very practical.” Yue Fan was skeptical. “A standard weapon from Thousand Jade Pavilion, being sold here? There must be a flaw, right?” Old Sun chuckled. “You’re a sharp one. I won’t lie to you; if it were flawless, it’d sell for twice this price at the Thousand Jade Pavilion. But a flaw doesn’t mean it’s useless.” He pointed to a peony pattern carved into the hairpin. “When the refiner was engraving this peony, he got a little creative and added a few extra lines, deviating from the standard design. Because of that, the hairpin was classified as defective. The formation inside, however, is perfectly intact and works just as well.” Yue Fan nodded. This hairpin seemed the most suitable for his needs. “How many spirit stones?” Old Sun stroked his beard. “A flat rate. Fifteen spirit stones!” Yue Fan shook his head. “Five!” The old man’s eyes went wide. “Who taught you to bargain like that?” Yue Fan looked a bit sheepish. “I heard the people at another stall. That’s how they all do it.” “The morals of this world are in decline,” Old Sun lamented dramatically. “Corrupting even the good children! Fourteen stones, and not a bit lower!” Yue Fan tentatively raised his offer. “Six?” After a spirited round of haggling, they finally settled on a price of ten stones. Old Sun swore he couldn't go a single stone lower, and Yue Fan, having checked the prices at other stalls, knew he wouldn’t find a better deal. He agreed. Old Sun accepted the spirit stones, wrapped the hairpin in a cheap but pretty paper box, and handed it over. “If only my grandson were half as clever as you,” he muttered, “I’d have him help me at the stall. But the boy is slow as a turtle. He’s too afraid to even speak to strangers.” Pleased with his purchase, Yue Fan waved goodbye to Old Sun and walked away with a spring in his step. The vendor at the neighboring stall chuckled. “Looks like you took a loss on that one, Old Sun.” Old Sun stroked his beard. “Not a loss, exactly. Just earned a little less.” The vendor’s curiosity was piqued. “Ten spirit stones is no small sum. I wonder who the boy is buying a hairpin for.” “It’s a Fire-Resistant Hairpin. Protects from the heat of a stove. Who do you think it’s for?” Watching Yue Fan’s small figure disappear into the crowd, Old Sun sighed softly. “He’s a good kid.” Yue Fan lived in a small, old house on a quiet street at the edge of Jianyun City, just big enough for his family of three. Their neighbors were all fellow Loose Cultivators in the Qi Refinement Realm, scraping by on odd jobs. They weren’t wealthy, but a sense of community and warmth permeated the neighborhood. As evening fell, wisps of cooking smoke curled from the rooftops and soft, yellow lights began to glow in the windows. Yue Fan burst into the house. “Mom, I’m back!” A woman in simple clothes, her face gentle, came out from the inner room. Her eyes filled with joy at the sight of him. She couldn’t resist pulling him close, stroking his head and pinching his cheek. “Have you lost weight? Are you cultivating too hard?” “I haven’t lost any weight,” Yue Fan replied, then presented the box. “Mom, this is for you!” The woman paused, stunned, before taking the box. She opened it to find the hairpin nestled inside. “It’s a Fire-Resistant Hairpin. You work in the restaurant kitchen for so long, and the heat is bad for your health. This can ward it off. You’ll feel much cooler with it on.” The woman’s name was Liu Ruyan, Yue Fan’s mother, a Qi Refinement Realm Loose Cultivator in Jianyun City. Life as a Loose Cultivator was difficult, and well-paying jobs were scarce. Raising a child was harder still; the cost of food, clothing, sect tuition, and cultivation materials was a staggering burden for an ordinary cultivator. Liu Ruyan was a skilled cook and worked in the kitchen of a small city restaurant. The grander restaurants used expensive stoves forged by Artifact Refiners, their formations converting spirit stones into flame. But small restaurants, trying to save money, didn’t use spirit stones. Instead, they hired cultivators with Fire Spiritual Roots to generate the cooking flames with their own spiritual power. Over time, the constant exposure to heat took its toll, drying out the meridians and causing ailments like lung pain and a chronic, dry cough. Liu Ruyan occasionally had to use her own spiritual power for the fire. For a monthly salary of thirty spirit stones, despite the damage to her health, it was considered a good job—one many Qi Refinement cultivators coveted but couldn’t get. Looking at the hairpin in her hand, Liu Ruyan pursed her lips, unable to speak. Yue Fan spoke quickly. “The spirit stones I used to buy it—I earned them by helping a fellow sect member. I didn’t swindle or steal them!” A faint smile touched Liu Ruyan’s lips, a warm, slightly aching feeling rising in her chest. “I can’t accept this. You’re still young, and you’ll need many spirit stones for your own cultivation. We should save what we can. I can take care of myself, you don’t need to worry.” “We’ll worry about the future when it comes,” Yue Fan said confidently. “Who knows, I might become a Great Cultivator with a Golden Core and Nascent Soul. Then I’ll have as many spirit stones as I want.” Liu Ruyan laughed, a clear, bright sound. She tapped his forehead with her finger. “So young and already such a braggart.” “Please keep it, Mom. I haggled for half the day to buy it for you. If you don’t want it, I wasted all that time for nothing.” With that, Yue Fan took the hairpin and carefully fastened it in Liu Ruyan’s hair. He then dashed into the house to fetch a mirror. “Look, doesn’t it look nice?” In the reflection, the woman’s face was framed by the simple, elegant hairpin, giving her a dignified grace. She looked from her reflection to her son’s sparkling, eager eyes, and her heart melted. “Alright,” she said softly. “I’ll keep the hairpin. But no more gifts next time.” “Mhm, mhm,” Yue Fan agreed readily. “Mom, is dinner ready? I’m hungry.” “It’s ready. All your favorites. Come and eat.” Liu Ruyan was a wonderful cook. Though she only made simple vegetarian dishes with no spiritual energy, they were exquisite and delicious. After eating and chatting with his mother, Yue Fan went back to his room to read. Late that night, Yue Fan sank into his Sea of Consciousness. There, he spent the long hours practicing Formations on the surface of a silent stone stele. When he came to, it was already six in the morning. Yue Fan closed his eyes and held a spirit stone, meditating as part of his daily cultivation routine. When he opened his eyes again, dawn was just breaking, and brilliant sunlight streamed into his room. He lay there, stretching languidly, just about to get up, when he heard the sound of heavy, unsteady footsteps approaching the house. Yue Fan rolled over and pressed his eye to a crack in the door. A man stumbled inside, his clothes stained with blood and his face etched with exhaustion. It was his father, Yue Feng.

Chapter 4: The Clink of Ambition