With seven gold coins in his spatial ring, Lei Man felt like a king. He was no longer a mercenary scrounging for silver; he was a patron of the finer arts. He bypassed the common apothecaries and made his way to the most prestigious merchant house in Verdant Creek City: The Merchant God Pavilion.
If the Mercenary Pavilion was a roaring, chaotic tavern, the Merchant God Pavilion was a silent, immaculate temple dedicated to commerce. The floors were polished marble that reflected the soft, magical light from glowing crystals on the ceiling. Clerks in pristine uniforms moved with a silent efficiency, their voices never rising above a respectful murmur. The air hummed not with conversation, but with the sheer, palpable presence of wealth.
Lei Man walked up to a long counter made of a single, continuous piece of jade. A young, professionally smiling clerk greeted him. "Welcome to the Merchant God Pavilion. How may we enrich your path today?"
"I'm looking to purchase powerful spiritual herbs," Lei Man said, his request intentionally broad. He didn't know the names or properties of what he needed, only that he needed a potent fuel for his bizarre cultivation.
The clerk's smile didn't waver. "Of course, sir. Our first three floors are dedicated to spiritual plants of all kinds, categorized by environment and potency. For herbs of significant power, I would suggest you begin your perusal on the third floor."
"Very well," Lei Man said. "Please, lead the way."
The clerk bowed and gestured towards a grand, spiraling staircase. They had just set foot on the first step when the main doors of the pavilion were thrown open with a theatrical flourish. A young man, no older than seventeen, strode in. He was dressed in robes of shimmering gold silk, ostentatiously embroidered with phoenixes. He was flanked by two hulking, stone-faced guards in gleaming black armor and followed by a retinue of servants. His face was handsome but marred by a petulant, bored expression that suggested the entire world was his personal plaything.
He didn't walk to a counter. He stopped in the center of the grand hall and clapped his hands once, a sharp, imperious sound that made several patrons flinch.
A senior manager, a man with a perfectly composed face and silver hair, glided out from a back office. "Young Master Jin," the manager said with a polite, professional bow. "An unexpected pleasure."
"It's not a pleasure, it's a purchase," the young master said, waving a dismissive hand. "I am entertaining guests from the capital tomorrow. I require some... ambient decoration for the courtyards. The first three floors of spiritual plants... I'll take them. All of them. Bill my father's account."
A stunned silence fell over the hall. Lei Man, standing on the staircase, stared in absolute disbelief. Not an herb. Not a section. The first three floors. He was buying the entire public inventory of the most prestigious merchant house in the city to use as party decorations. The sheer, casual arrogance of it was a force of nature. The cost would be measured in spirit stones, a currency Lei Man had only ever heard of in whispers.
The manager didn't even blink. "Of course, Young Master Jin. An excellent choice. We will have it all packed and delivered to your estate by morning."
Young Master Jin grunted, satisfied. He gave the room a final, bored glance, his eyes sliding right past Lei Man as if he were a piece of the architecture, and then swept out of the pavilion as quickly as he had entered.
Lei Man turned to his clerk, a deep frown on his face. "He bought everything? Are there no powerful herbs left?"
The clerk's professional smile returned, this time with a hint of wry amusement. "Young Master Jin is a... frequent and enthusiastic customer. Arrogant young masters do that all the time; it is a common display of family wealth and influence. Please, do not be concerned, sir."
He gestured not up the now-pointless staircase, but towards a discreet, unmarked door to the side. "The items on the public floors are merely our catalog, a display for our less discerning clientele. Our true reserves are kept for serious clients."
He led Lei Man into a small, quiet room, elegantly furnished with a single table and two chairs. After a moment, another attendant entered with a single, lacquered box. The clerk opened it to reveal a delicate, seven-petaled white flower. In the center of its bloom, a single, perfect drop of shimmering golden liquid quivered, pulsing with a gentle, solar energy.
"Based on your cultivation level and request for 'power,' I believe this is what you are truly seeking," the clerk said with a flourish. "The Sun Dew Orchid. Its essence is pure, potent, and perfect for nourishing one's foundation for a major breakthrough."
"How much?" Lei Man asked, his voice a little tight.
"For a treasure of this quality, five gold pieces."
It was a staggering price, but Lei Man didn't hesitate. He placed five heavy gold coins on the table. He had just witnessed a level of wealth that made his entire fortune look like pocket change. Spending it to gain real, tangible power felt more important than ever.
He placed the precious orchid in his spatial ring and left the Merchant God Pavilion. The encounter had been a humbling, clarifying experience. There were levels to this world he hadn't even seen yet, a world where arrogant young masters could buy and sell his entire net worth on a whim. He was still just a G-Rank mercenary. He needed to get stronger, not just to survive, but to one day stand on the same level as the gods who moved so carelessly through his world.
Lei Man didn't return to the Lei estate. The thought of consuming a five-gold treasure in a place where his cousin could burst in at any moment was absurd. He needed a secure, private, and anonymous space. He found it in a high-end inn in the merchants' district, paying a handsome sum for their best private courtyard for a single night, a luxury he never could have dreamed of a week ago.
Inside the quiet, walled courtyard, under the light of the setting sun, he sat on the cool stone tiles and took out the lacquered box. He opened it, the Sun Dew Orchid inside seeming to drink the twilight and radiate its own soft, golden glow. The single, perfect drop of liquid in its center pulsed like a tiny, liquid heart.
He knew the clerk's unspoken warning. This was a treasure meant to be carefully, painstakingly refined over weeks, its energy drawn out in small, manageable doses. To consume it whole was an act of profound foolishness.
It was the only way he knew.
He placed the delicate flower in his mouth. The petals dissolved instantly. The single drop of dew burst on his tongue. The taste was not a flavor, but a temperature—an intense, pure, and overwhelming warmth, like swallowing a drop of the sun itself.
The trip was instantaneous and absolute.
He was no longer in a courtyard. He was floating in a silent, black void, but he was not alone. Before him hung a star, a colossal, churning sphere of golden fire. He felt an irresistible pull, a gravitational force that drew his consciousness towards it. He did not fight.
He plunged into the sun. But he did not burn. He merged. He was no longer a point of awareness looking at the star; he was the star. His meridians were solar flares, erupting with unimaginable energy. His dantian was the core, a site of constant, violent fusion. It was an agony of pure, clean power, a process of being unmade and reforged in a crucible of light. The limitations of his body, the very concept of "levels," felt like fragile cages of glass being vaporized by the sheer, overwhelming heat.
Back in the real world, Lei Man's body sat motionless, but it was glowing. A soft, golden light emanated from his skin, growing brighter and brighter until his entire form was a silhouette wreathed in a gentle, solar aura.
The trip ended not with a snap, but with a collapse. The star imploded, its infinite energy contracting, condensing, and pouring back into his dantian.
He gasped, his eyes flying open. The world seemed dull and faded after the brilliance of his inner vision. He felt the power coursing through him, a tsunami of pure, refined Qi. It surged against the barrier to the seventh level of Body Strengthening, a wall that would take a normal cultivator months of dedicated effort to breach.
His Qi didn't knock on the door; it smashed the entire wall to dust.
The breakthrough was a violent, exhilarating release. But it didn't stop. The flood of refined solar energy was so immense, so potent, that it continued to pour into his system, pushing him onward. His meridians, newly widened and fortified, eagerly drank the power. He shot through the seventh level in a matter of minutes, his foundation solidifying at a terrifying rate.
The energy finally began to wane as he felt himself slam against another, even tougher barrier. He had arrived, panting and drenched in a sweat that evaporated into a golden steam, at the absolute peak of the eighth level of Body Strengthening.
He had leaped two entire major realms in a single sitting.
He slowly unclenched his fists, feeling the dense, potent power thrumming in his muscles and bones. The flame in his dantian was gone, replaced by what felt like a miniature, condensed star, radiating a steady, ferocious heat.
Then, the true reality of what he'd done settled in. The cost had been staggering—five gold pieces, the vast majority of a fortune that had nearly cost him his life to acquire. For a normal cultivator, that orchid would represent months, perhaps even a year, of careful absorption, providing a small chance at breaking through a single, difficult bottleneck.
For him, it was a few moments of sensory overload and a leap in power that bordered on the blasphemous.
He looked down at his hands, a slow, bewildered smile spreading across his face. It was the first time he truly understood the nature of his gift, or his curse. His cultivation technique, born from rainbows and chipmunks, was utterly, terrifyingly insane... for those with the resources.
He wasn't just a cultivator. He was a furnace. And his progress was limited not by his talent or his comprehension of the Dao, but by the quality and quantity of the fuel he could afford to burn. To continue this monstrous path, he would need a mountain of gold, an ocean of treasures.
He was more powerful than ever, and for the first time, he felt truly, desperately poor.