Dusk bled into night as Fall Night and Purple Night reached the outskirts of the market district. Lanterns flickered to life one by one, their warm glow reflecting off the rain-darkened stone streets as the two searched for a respectable inn.
Eventually, they settled on a three-story establishment. It was sturdy and unremarkable, yet there was something inviting about the place despite the damp chill of the evening.
It wasn't luxurious, but neither did it look like a den of thieves. For their purposes, it would suffice.
As they entered, the innkeeper approached with a welcoming smile.
"How can I help you tonight, guests?"
Fall Night and Purple Night exchanged a brief glance before turning toward the innkeeper.
"Would you like two rooms for the night?" the innkeeper asked.
Before Fall Night could respond, Purple Night smoothly interrupted.
"We'll only need one room, please."
The innkeeper nodded and reached for the ledger.
"How many nights will you be staying?"
"Two nights, please."
"That'll be three hundred purple coins per night, for a total of six hundred."
Purple Night placed the payment on the counter.
"Here. Keep the change."
The innkeeper's smile widened.
"Thank you kindly, guests. Your room is number four. Here's the key."
Purple Night accepted it and turned toward the stairs. Fall Night followed, glancing at her with mild amusement.
"You're awfully generous, Purple Night."
"What I do with my money is my own concern," she replied without looking back. "Now, let's go to our room."
Fall Night could only sigh before following her upstairs.
Their shared room was modest but comfortable. The air smelled faintly of incense and old wood, while a single lantern cast a warm glow over the furnishings.
Once the door was closed, the table between them quickly disappeared beneath the spoils of their excursion through the bustling street market.
Purple Night had clearly profited the most. Bundles of talisman materials, rare inks, spirit threads, and formation components lay neatly arranged across the tabletop. She examined her purchases with unmistakable satisfaction.
Array formations and inscriptions were her domain, and the market had proven unusually generous.
Fall Night's acquisitions, however, were considerably stranger.
Rather than treasures of established rank or refinement, he had acquired skills—raw techniques stripped of the usual classifications and hierarchies.
Unranked. Ungraded.
Their potential remained undefined.
The unusual nature of these techniques unsettled Purple Night more than she cared to admit. She could understand the value of a rare treasure, but something without an established grade was far more difficult to evaluate.
Meanwhile, most of the fierce beasts Fall Night had slain in the Misty Rain Forest had already been exchanged for other goods. The remaining transactions would be settled by dawn, when the shopkeeper had promised to deliver the rest of what was owed.
Among those transactions were two pieces of clothing Fall Night had entrusted to the shopkeeper for improvement.
The first was his cloak. The shopkeeper had promised to reinforce its exterior with thick golden bear cub fur while lining the interior with supple, shimmering emerald king snake scales.
The result would be lightweight, flexible, and resistant to damage without sacrificing warmth.
Fall Night had also handed over his rune-imbued shirt. That, too, would be reforged using the scales of young emerald king snakes, arranged into a delicate lattice. The finished garment would function like lightweight chainmail disguised as silk.
Useful improvements, certainly.
Yet neither compared to the final item resting in Fall Night's hands.
A book.
Ancient and slender, its cover was cracked with age, and its yellowed pages were frayed along the edges.
[The Profound Heavenly Tool of Body Refinement]
The shopkeeper had allowed Fall Night only a brief glimpse of its contents. Even that small concession had felt like charity bordering on sacrilege.
The technique was far beyond Fall Night's current capabilities. Whether he would ever reach the level required to practice it remained uncertain.
Perhaps it was better suited to someone from the Midnight Clan.
Nevertheless, curiosity won out.
Fall Night carefully opened the brittle pages and began to read.
At first, the contents seemed deceptively simple. Basic rune diagrams, foundational techniques, and straightforward instructions filled the opening chapters. There was little about them that appeared extraordinary.
Then the book grew increasingly complex.
Arrays layered upon arrays.
Ancient runes interwoven with intricate formation theory.
Locking diagrams designed not for weapons or artifacts, but for the human body itself.
Gradually, the underlying principle became clear.
Strength refined. Flesh transformed into a vessel.
By the time Fall Night reached the final page, the warmth of the room seemed to have faded. His attention had become so completely absorbed by the text that he barely noticed the silence around him.
Then he encountered the final technique.
[The Integrated Nine Extreme Elements]
Nine natural treasures.
One nature.
One path.
The principle was deceptively simple, but its implications were anything but.
A practitioner would select a single heavenly treasure—perhaps a mountain, a river, or even a blade of grass—and merge it into their very being.
Once that choice was made, it could never be changed.
To complete the technique, the practitioner would need to locate eight additional treasures of the same nature, fusing each one into their body in succession.
The choice, therefore, was permanent.
An expert might select something as seemingly insignificant as grass, only to discover that completing the cycle required eight other extraordinary grass-type treasures.
Abandoning the technique halfway through was not an option.
All cultivation would collapse, forcing the practitioner to begin again. Whether they could ever recover their former strength was another matter entirely.
The danger was obvious.
The reward, however, was terrifying.
Lower-tier natural treasures were common enough. But treasures capable of turning the tide of battle were exceedingly rare, often priceless.
Every selection demanded careful consideration: grade, tier, ability, and uniqueness.
Nine treasures.
Nine opportunities to make the right choice.
And no room for error.
Fall Night slowly exhaled.
He was still contemplating the implications when Purple Night leaned over his shoulder to see what had captured his attention.
One glance was all it took.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, her composure momentarily threatened by an excitement she struggled to contain. It was as though two beasts had awakened within her, circling one another in a contest neither was willing to lose.
"Fall Night," she said tightly. "Hand me that book. It would be wasted on you."
"Nah." Fall Night didn't even look up. "I'm good."
Purple Night's brow twitched.
"What do you mean, 'nah'?"
"I'm not giving it to you."
His voice remained calm, almost indifferent.
"Not for free."
Silence settled between them.
Purple Night stared at him as though she couldn't believe what she had just heard.
"...What do you want?"
"What do you have?"
She scoffed.
"My life? I'll even let you keep your cultivation. You should be grateful to drink my bathwater. What a privilege, Fall Night."
Fall Night tilted his head, genuinely puzzled.
"Who would want to drink your bathwater? That's disgusting."
Dark lines seemed to creep across Purple Night's face.
Even she wouldn't drink her own bathwater.
"Putting that aside," Fall Night continued, finally meeting her gaze, "is this a command?"
Purple Night froze.
For an instant, her thoughts returned to Death Sword and Jagged. She remembered how easily a simple command could turn into a disaster when Fall Night decided to take what he wanted—or destroy whatever stood in his way.
This book was no different.
Fall Night had no intention of relinquishing it without a fight.
"What do you want?" she repeated, her voice growing dry.
Fall Night smiled faintly.
"What do you have that I can actually use?"
"Tsk." Her eyes hardened. "So you really are petty."
"Am I?" He shrugged. "Or do I simply refuse to suffer losses for other people? You've got good things on you, Purple Night. I know it."
She laughed sharply.
"You're a schemer, Fall Night."
"I learn from the best."
Her expression changed.
"What are you implying?"
"A schemer plans thoroughly," Fall Night replied, his smile thinning. "Through deceit and whatever unruly means are necessary. I wonder who that description fits."
"When did you get so bold?" Purple Night asked coldly. "Do you enjoy gambling with your life?"
"My life?" Fall Night took a step forward. "If I weren't gambling with it, I wouldn't be here at all."
She sneered.
"Stubbornness is bad for your health."
Fall Night sighed.
Then, without warning, he tore the final page from the book.
Purple Night's eyes widened.
Before she could react, he handed her the remaining pages.
"This is the trade," he said evenly. "I take the last page. You take the book. Remember—you forced this exchange."
"Give me that page!"
"You have the book."
"Not the complete one!"
"You should be happy I didn't use force."
Purple Night stared at him, her jaw tightening as she struggled to contain her anger.
"...Fine. Where are we meeting tomorrow?"
Fall Night began gathering his belongings and placing them into his dimensional bag.
"North Gate," Purple Night answered at last.
"I'll see you there."
With that, Fall Night moved toward the window.
It creaked open, allowing a cool night breeze to sweep into the room. He stepped onto the sill, then leapt onto the inn's roof, landing without a sound before disappearing into the darkness.
Purple Night watched him leave without attempting to stop him.
She still had the book.
And that was what mattered.
Even if she wasn't a body cultivator, inscriptions were inscriptions. Whether they were carved into flesh or drawn across paper made little difference to someone of her skill.
At her current level, she was among the best.
She settled down and began examining the pages, her earlier irritation gradually giving way to fascination.
The formations were exquisite.
The runes were breathtaking.
Each diagram revealed another layer of intricacy, another principle worth studying. The deeper she read, the more convinced she became that acquiring the book had been worth the trouble.
Only later would she understand the true cost of that exchange.
She hadn't merely traded for a book.
She had traded away her freedom.
And that debt would haunt her for as long as Fall Night lived.
Dawn's First Light
Before dawn fully broke, Fall Night returned to the inn's rooftop.
The night's events had given him plenty to think about. After finding a quiet spot, he sat down and reviewed what had happened, allowing his thoughts to settle.
There was little to be gained from overreacting or making an unwise decision simply because his emotions had gotten the better of him.
Haste made waste.
One wrong move could set off a chain of events that no amount of strength or cleverness could easily stop.
He had learned enough about the cultivation world to understand that much.
Once his thoughts were in order, Fall Night sat cross-legged and began to cultivate.
By the time the first pale light filtered through the clouds, he had completed his sixth cultivation cycle.
His breathing remained steady, his body resonating with restrained strength.
The Midnight Clan's cultivation method tempered flesh and chi together, building power inward rather than allowing it to flare outward. Its requirements were so harsh, particularly when it came to resources, that few cultivators outside the clan knew much about its existence.
Even within the cultivation world, not everyone was willing to endure the demands of such a method.
Yet Fall Night was making progress.
Moving forward was always better than remaining stagnant, especially when the alternative was wasting time searching blindly for clues to a breakthrough.
Every completed cycle brought him another step closer to his goal.
When he finished, Fall Night rose and stretched, loosening his muscles before walking toward the edge of the roof.
He scanned the surrounding buildings, considering which direction to take.
After a moment's thought, he stepped back and leapt onto the neighboring rooftop.
His destination was the old shop he had discovered during his excursion with Purple Night.
As he approached the market district, he leapt down to street level and blended into the passing crowd.
The morning was already growing busy. Merchants were opening their stalls, cultivators were inspecting goods, and ordinary civilians moved through the streets in search of their daily necessities.
Fall Night disappeared among them.
...
Meanwhile, in Room Four, Purple Night sat cross-legged on the bed, the ancient book open in her hands.
Her eyes scanned the final pages.
Then she stopped.
The ending was missing.
Her fingers tightened around the frayed paper as the memory returned with painful clarity: Fall Night tearing the final page free before handing the book over.
She turned toward the window and closed her eyes, releasing a slow breath.
Her teacher's words surfaced in her mind.
"Greed invites disaster in the cultivation world. Testing another person's patience is never the wisest course of action."
Purple Night opened her eyes.
She rose, unlatched the window, and leapt onto the roof in a single smooth motion.
The rooftop was empty.
Yet the spot where Fall Night had been sitting still retained a faint trace of warmth.
He was already gone.
Purple Night extended her spiritual sense, tracing his direction with ease. After confirming his movements, she withdrew it just as quickly.
She knew he wasn't leaving the city without her. His aura was moving toward the market district, not the city gates.
For the moment, that was enough.
Time was slipping away, and the preparations for their mountain journey still needed attention.
Purple Night had little intention of wasting the morning chasing after a debt she couldn't collect just yet.
She returned to her room and reached for her talisman materials.
There was work to be done.
And once the mountain journey began, she would have plenty of opportunities to settle accounts with Fall Night.
...
Fall Night eventually arrived at the shop tucked away along a narrow street.
Just as he remembered, the establishment was old and deliberately unremarkable.
Its wooden sign had been sanded so smooth that no clan insignia remained—only a faint carving of an eye split down the middle.
Anyone without experience might mistake it for a relic shop barely surviving on foot traffic.
Fall Night knew better.
He had visited enough shops throughout his travels to understand that appearances meant very little. Some of the most valuable treasures were hidden in places that most cultivators wouldn't dare enter.
When he had visited the previous day with Purple Night, she had refused to step inside.
To her, the place was so filthy that entering it would be an insult to her standing.
Yet this was precisely where Fall Night had discovered The Profound Heavenly Tool of Body Refinement.
He stepped inside.
The air smelled of dried blood, spirit resin, and faint ozone—the residue of too many transactions involving cultivation resources that had never come from clean hands.
Shelves lined the walls, stacked with spirit jars, monster cores sealed in wax, bone fragments etched with runes, and weapons that hummed softly even at rest.
The shopkeeper was sweeping the floor when Fall Night entered. He barely glanced up.
There was no surprise in his expression, only quiet acknowledgment.
The old man seemed to know every cultivator and civilian who passed through his little shop of wonders.
Fall Night's gaze wandered across the shelves.
They had changed overnight.
New items rested among the old, each carrying faint traces of desolation, struggle, and forgotten worlds.
As he moved past the displays, two books drew his attention.
Something about them seemed to pull at him, as though they recognized his presence.
The first was titled:
[Learning the Way]
Written by a scholar who warned against rushing through the realms of battle, it revealed the hidden truths that could only be uncovered through patience and the right opportunities.
The second was:
[Anatomy vs. Cultivation]
Penned by a body cultivator, it examined the strengths and limitations of refining the flesh through cultivation compared with relying on external chi.
Several pages were damaged.
Others were missing entirely.
Fall Night didn't hesitate.
He picked up both books.
Even in their incomplete state, they were priceless.
His gaze then drifted toward a collection of magical items displayed nearby.
"Shopkeeper."
The old man followed his line of sight.
"Those are Tier-two Shadow Blitz boots," he explained. "Fast and powerful, but their runes are damaged. You'll need a rune master to repair them or suitable materials to reforge the boots and inscribe new runes."
Fall Night gestured toward another display.
"And those?"
"That is a Tier-one, mid-grade gauntlet-and-boot set. They came from a rock monster in the Desolate World. Excellent defensive properties and considerable strength enhancement. Unfortunately, they require two Tier-two cores to repair."
"Would any Tier-two core work?" Fall Night asked curiously.
The shopkeeper paused, collecting his thoughts.
"No. You'll need cores harvested from the same type of creature. Unfortunately, that world is sealed by the Earth Dragon Tribes."
A trace of melancholy lingered in his voice.
Fall Night glanced at the next item.
"And that?"
"An old dimensional vault," the shopkeeper replied. "It links multiple spatial containers together. Its runes are damaged, and repairing them would be difficult. A truly lost art of spatial rune crafting."
Fall Night nodded, seemingly unmoved by the loss of such knowledge.
"How much for the dimensional vault, old shopkeeper?"
The old man continued sweeping, a smile spreading across his face.
"How many coins do you have?"
Fall Night considered the question before answering.
"Close to thirty-five thousand purple coins."
"Ohhh..." The shopkeeper drew out the word. "Not enough."
"What would be enough?"
The old man stopped sweeping and looked at him.
"Let me tell you something that many cultivators and civilians have forgotten. An item's value isn't determined by its rarity alone. Its true value lies in the benefits it provides."
Fall Night considered his words.
"You have a point. Thank you for the lesson."
He cupped his hands respectfully.
The shopkeeper returned to sweeping.
Fall Night continued browsing for another hour, selecting a few more materials that most cultivators would have dismissed as garbage.
To the untrained eye, they were little more than scraps, damaged fragments, and useless remnants.
Fall Night, however, had a good feeling about his choices.
There was something about these overlooked materials that made him believe they would prove useful in the future.
Whether that instinct would pay off remained to be seen.
Before leaving, he glanced once more at the dimensional vault.
"When I return to this city, I'll come back for that vault."
The old man watched him leave, his expression thoughtful.
Interesting... Very interesting.
A faint smile touched his lips.
Perhaps the young miss will find him interesting as well.
….
As soon as Fall Night left the narrow street, he slipped through the crowd of civilians and cultivators, making his way toward his second destination.
He needed to collect his upgraded cloak and shirt.
Along the way, several female cultivators glanced in his direction, offering small smiles as he passed.
Their expressions suggested interest, but their eyes revealed something more eager.
Fall Night paid them little attention.
He had more important things to do.
When he finally reached the shop, he found the owner pacing back and forth, looking as though something terrible had happened.
The moment the man spotted him, he hurried forward.
"There you are!"
A bead of sweat rolled down his round cheek. His expression was filled with anxiety, as though he feared the consequences of whatever had gone wrong.
Fall Night frowned slightly.
"Is there something wrong with my order?"
"Yes," the shopkeeper admitted.
Fall Night remained silent, waiting for the man to explain.
The shopkeeper wiped his brow before continuing.
"Here's what happened. When we tried to reforge your cloak and shirt, the materials kept mending themselves before we could even begin working on them."
He paused, clearly struggling to find the right words.
"We didn't want to go back on our promise to make you a new cloak and shirt. So, rather than return your materials, we decided to use something from our own inventory."
Fall Night listened without interrupting.
"We used a Tier-two material called Undying Silk, harvested from an Undying Dead Silk Worm, as the foundation for both pieces."
The shopkeeper's expression grew more animated as he explained the work.
"For the cloak, we stretched the golden bear cub fur and layered it over the outer surface. We also used the same fur to line the hood, preserving the original design you requested."
He gestured toward the workbench behind him.
"Since you provided scales from two immature emerald king snakes and one that was nearly mature, we incorporated additional materials to improve their flexibility and durability. The finished scales should offer better resistance against slashes and other physical attacks."
The shopkeeper paused to catch his breath.
"We applied the same principles to your shirt, but the result turned out somewhat differently. The scales formed several thin, interlocking layers, making the garment resemble delicate chainmail."
Fall Night considered the explanation.
"Oh..."
He looked at the shopkeeper.
"How much will this cost me?"
"The same amount we quoted you before, sir."
Fall Night nodded.
Then he remembered the materials he had purchased earlier that morning.
"Could I add these materials to the garments?"
He placed the materials on the counter.
The shopkeeper examined them carefully.
"That reddish material is called Dying Ember. It's a Tier-one, Grade-B material. It's useful for concealing bloodstains from wounds and can absorb a small amount of heat."
He picked up the other material.
"This one is Shatter Star, a Tier-two, Grade-C material. It's excellent for rune crafting."
Fall Night considered the possibilities.
"Let's use both. Incorporate the Dying Ember into the shirt and cloak, and let us use Shatter Star to engrave several runes on the inside of the shirt."
The shopkeeper nodded, already examining the materials more closely.
"Would you like any engraving done to the cloak?"
"No."
"Very well. Give us a few hours, sir."
Fall Night nodded and handed over the materials.
At the same time they return shirt and cloak that was given to him by the Elder.
The shopkeeper accepted them with both hands, his earlier anxiety gradually fading.
For now, all that remained was to wait.
….
Back at the Banner of Crest Palace, the Pavilion Master stood before a tall window, gazing out over the city.
"Have they left the city?"
"Not yet, Pavilion Mistress. They should be leaving soon."
Jaz Vixen did not turn around.
"Gather information on the Midnight Clan. Their rising stars, bloodlines, and any talented individuals who have recently achieved breakthroughs."
"Yes, Pavilion Mistress."
The subordinate bowed before withdrawing.
Once the room had fallen silent, Jaz continued staring through the window.
Purple Night was known.
Fall Night was not.
And that made him dangerous.