The market town was a place where lower-class cultivators traded goods for cultivation. The variety was overwhelming—pills, Formations, spiritual artifacts—everything you could think of, though the grade was usually low and the quality mixed.
Close to the new year, the market town was packed, people milling about in a loud, bustling crowd.
Mo Hua headed straight for a small stall at the end of the street. The stall owner was an old man named Sun—people called him Old Sun. His son worked as a minor manager at the Myriad Treasure Building. Sometimes he'd grab defective goods the store didn't want at a low price and hand them off for Old Sun to sell at the street-side stall.
Old Sun was shouting to attract customers when he looked up to see Mo Hua jogging over, face flushed and breathing hard. He couldn't help teasing:
"Hey kiddo, here to look at more spirit artifacts today? Don't tell me it's like last time, just looking and not buying…"
Mo Hua waved his small hand, "Buying!"
Old Sun was surprised, "Still a few days before New Year—your family already gave you lucky money that early?"
Mo Hua frowned, "What lucky money? I earned this myself!" He patted the pouch at his waist for emphasis.
Old Sun heard the crisp clink of Spirit Stones in the pouch and perked up, quickly saying:
"Formation talismans, artifacts—I have it all, good stuff at fair prices, honest business for the young and old alike! And they're all from the Myriad Treasure Building, superior quality. What are you looking for, kid?"
Of course, if it was really superior quality, the Myriad Treasure Building would be selling it themselves, not letting it trickle down to the market town. But Mo Hua didn't care; the good stuff from the Myriad Treasure Building was too expensive anyway.
"Got any fire-resistant spiritual artifacts?"
Old Sun looked knowingly and fished out a burlap package, spreading it out before Mo Hua.
"You mentioned it a few days ago, so I kept an eye out. I even searched for a few more when I got back—all top-notch fire-resistant spirit artifacts. Super portable and stylish too—take a look, kid!"
Mo Hua shot Old Sun a surprised glance, thinking: No wonder he's been running a stall in the market town for decades—he preps for every little business opportunity.
The spirit artifacts laid out in front of Mo Hua came in all shapes and types—rings, jade pendants, lantern stands, plus a cover and a scarf. Just in terms of variety, these were the most complete in the whole market town.
Mo Hua looked each one over carefully, then picked up a hairpin with an old-fashioned yet refined design, asking, "What's this hairpin?"
Old Sun replied, "That's a Fire-Resistant Hairpin. It's a standard spiritual artifact—material and craftsmanship all follow set guidelines. There's a basic fire formation carved on it; you power it with a Spirit Stone. When you activate the formation, it blocks Fire Qi, keeping you cool all over. It does consume a Spirit Stone, but one stone lasts three months. Pretty economical…"
Mo Hua sounded doubtful, "If it's a standard spirit artifact from the Myriad Treasure Building, and it ends up here, it must have a flaw…"
Old Sun chuckled, "Right, you're pretty sharp. Not gonna hide it from you—the good ones stay at the Myriad Treasure Building and cost twice as much as here. But saying it's flawed is a bit strong…"
He pointed to the peony pattern on the hairpin, "See, the artifact refiner put a few extra strokes on this peony. That breaks protocol, so it got classified as defective. But the formation inside? Perfectly intact, so the effect's the same."
Mo Hua nodded, thinking this hairpin was the best fit, then asked, "How many Spirit Stones?"
Old Sun stroked his beard, "One price—fifteen Spirit Stones!"
Mo Hua shook his head, "Five!"
Old Sun's eyes went wide, "Who taught you to bargain like that?"
Mo Hua looked a little embarrassed, "I heard it at other stalls—they all haggle that way…"
Old Sun wailed, "The world's going downhill—good kids are all getting corrupted!" Then, "Fourteen, can't go lower!"
Mo Hua tried upping just a bit, "Six, then?"
...
After some back and forth, the final price landed at ten.
Old Sun insisted he couldn't go any lower, not even a single Spirit Stone. Mo Hua had checked prices at other stalls too; they weren't any cheaper, so he agreed.
Old Sun took Mo Hua's Spirit Stones, wrapped the hairpin in a cheap but pretty paper box, and handed it over. All the while, he was muttering:
"If my grandson were half as sharp as you, I'd have him help me at the stall. Too bad, that kid's so shy he can't even talk to strangers."
Mo Hua took the hairpin, content, waved goodbye to Old Sun, and skipped away.
The stall owner next door laughed, "Old Sun, you took a loss this time!"
Old Sun stroked his beard, "Not really a loss—just less profit, is all."
The other stall owner was curious, "Ten Spirit Stones isn't exactly small change. Wonder who the kid's buying the hairpin for."
"Fire-Resistant Hairpin's for avoiding Fire Qi—from the kitchen stove, obviously! Who else would he give it to?"
Watching Mo Hua's figure fade into the distance, Old Sun sighed softly, "He's a good kid, really."
Mo Hua's home was in a remote street at the edge of Tongxian City. The house was old and small, just enough space for three. All the neighbors were Qi Refining loose cultivators too, scraping by on odd jobs and short-term work—not wealthy, but filled with the warmth of everyday life.
By evening, every household's chimney smoked, and yellowed lanterns glowed.
Mo Hua rushed inside, calling out, "Mom, I'm home!"
Out of the back room came a graceful woman in plain clothes; seeing Mo Hua, her face lit up with joy, and she couldn't help pulling him over to fuss, touching his head and pinching his cheeks, soon saying, "Cultivation must be tough—look at you, you've gotten so thin."
Mo Hua replied, "Not thin!" then fished out the box, "Mom, this is for you!"
The woman blinked, took the box, and opened it—inside was a hairpin.
"It's a Fire-Resistant Hairpin. Since you work in the restaurant kitchen, always around the stove's Fire Qi, it's bad for your health. This pin wards off Fire Qi—keeps you cool."
The woman's surname was Liu, first name Ruhua—Mo Hua's mother, a Qi Refinement loose cultivator in Tongxian City.
Life wasn't easy for loose cultivators, and there weren't many ways to earn Spirit Stones. Having a child made things harder—raising them, providing food and clothes, paying for sect tuition, and buying all kinds of cultivation materials. For the average cultivator, these were heavy expenses.
Liu Ruhua was great at cooking, so she worked as a kitchen helper at a small restaurant in town.
Bigger restaurants used stoves refined by artifact refiners—fitted with Formations that consumed Spirit Stones, turning Spiritual Energy into fire.
Small restaurants, to save money, didn't use Spirit Stones for fuel. They had cultivators with Fire Spiritual Roots burn their own Spiritual Power for cooking flames. After a while, the body got hit hard by Fire Qi, leaving meridians dry and causing chest pain and a cough.
While helping out in the kitchen, Liu Ruhua had to keep burning Spiritual Power for fire, earning about thirty Spirit Stones a month. Despite the toll on her health, it was a good job for loose cultivators—many Qi Refining cultivators couldn't even get the chance.
Looking at the hairpin in her hand, Liu Ruhua pressed her lips together, silent.
Mo Hua said quickly, "I earned the Spirit Stones for the hairpin by helping my fellow sectmates—no cheating, no stealing, no lying!"
Liu Ruhua couldn't help laughing, her heart warming and turning a little sour. "Mom can't take this hairpin, honey. You're still young, you'll need lots of Spirit Stones for cultivation. Save where you can. I can take care of myself, don't worry about me…"
Mo Hua said confidently, "We'll worry about the future when it gets here. For all you know, I might be a Golden Core cultivator someday and have all the Spirit Stones I want!"
Liu Ruhua laughed, tapping Mo Hua's forehead, "Blowing smoke already at your age, huh?"
"Mom, please take it. I bargained for ages to get a good deal. If you don't take it, all my effort's for nothing."
As he finished, Mo Hua picked up the hairpin and tucked it into Liu Ruhua's bun, then dashed off to grab a mirror.
"See? Pretty, right?"
Liu Ruhua saw the woman in the mirror with the graceful hairpin, looking dignified and elegant. Her son's twinkling eyes made her go soft; she murmured, "I'll accept this one, but next time I won't take any gifts."
"Okay, okay," Mo Hua promised, "Is dinner ready, Mom? I'm starving."
"It's ready! All your favorites—eat as much as you want!"
Liu Ruhua was a wonderful cook. Even simple veggie dishes, without any Spiritual Energy, were beautiful and delicious. Mo Hua ate, chatted with his mom, then went to his room to read.
After one p.m., Mo Hua entered his Sea of Consciousness, practicing Formations on the stele all night long before awakening at 6 A.M.
Mo Hua sat cross-legged with eyes closed, clutching a Spirit Stone and cultivating as always.
When he opened his eyes, dawn was breaking and the sun shone warm through the window. Mo Hua stretched lazily, about to get up, when heavy footsteps sounded outside the room.
Mo Hua rolled over, peeking through the crack in the door. He saw a man, battered and dusty, his body streaked with blood, stumbling into the room—Mo Hua's father, Mo Shan.